Atonement
by eckles
Summary: In a blind moment where Kim's emotions were not her own she hurts the one person who would never have hurt her. The best she could hope for is forgiveness but what follows is instead atonement.
1. Chapter 1

It was a dark and stormy night … isn't this how these things usually start? Well, not in my case, that's for damn sure. Of course it was dark, nighttime usually is. But stormy? No, tonight was far from it. In fact I would probably go as far as to say, environmentally speaking, that very few nights had been as perfect as this one was. Not too cold, not too warm, with just the slightest of breezes to let you know that the world hadn't somehow frozen itself in time.

Ha, time. How I hate the concept of it. Why does time always have to move forward and never back? My life, my reputation, my friendships, my family, my … failure's. All would be solved in a hummingbird's heartbeat if time could be reversed and I could return to the moment when it all came apart and stop what I had done. Even if I couldn't stop myself, I would at the very least be satisfied with the knowledge that I had tried. And as the saying goes, _'it is far better to try and fail then to not try at all.'_

But instead of fixing what went wrong, I'm standing here, alone, with only my tormented memories to keep me company. Captured in a misery that I am working hard not to reveal to the outside world.

God, how I wished the weather tonight was a match to my feelings. It would probably make me feel slightly better if I was stuck outside with thick, tear-shaped droplets descending from the heavens and a bone-chilling wind cutting through my clothing and flesh. Now _**that**_ would certainly be a night worthy of the _prodigal's_ return.

Didn't Elizabethan Playwrights, like Shakespeare and Marlow, use the weather too reflect their hero's mood, decline from grace, or elevation of spirit? I wonder if the _'Bard of Avon'_ had ever placed quill to parchment and wrote of my tale, would he have turned me into a tragic hero? I greatly doubt it. I haven't been too heroic of late, and after what I had done I question if too many people will have any sympathy for the tragedy I have introduced into my life either.

But sympathy or not, hero or not, I'm still standing here at the front door. At the house that had used to claim as my home. It was a place that had heard my laugher and had seen my tears since my birth. It had been my sanctuary from all the abuse that the real world could throw at me, not that there was much in the way of abuse. I did live a bit of a privileged life after all.

So after so many days and nights away, I find myself once again, asking the question's that I had answered so long ago - _Why did I flee such a haven, back when I needed it the most? Why did I run away from the one refuge where I could seek solace and support for what I had done?_ The answers to these questions always presented themselves easily. It was because I wanted to deny my life and I wanted to avoid the fear and disappointment that would obviously come from Mom and Dad's faces when they learned what had happened to … what had happened that night.

So many people owed me favors that it was a cinch to live and travel off of them for a while. But I couldn't live like that indefinitely; I knew that one day I would have to return home and face what had happened. And as the old saying went, I could run from my fate but I could never hide from it.

For seven and a half weeks, Kimberly Anne Possible had ceased to exist in the known world and had chosen to live in society's shadows. I had lived in dives that had required a tetanus boost just for looking at them. I had taken below minimum wages jobs too keep under the radar. I had dyed by hair black, then chestnut brown, then changed the styles. Now, I look more like a pasty, flat-chested version of Bonnie then the vibrant and perky redheaded cheerleader I was half-a-year ago. Even now I wonder if my decision to transform myself into looking Bonnie-esk wasn't some kind of subconscious desire to emotionally distance myself from what I had done.

In the end, it hadn't worked. Even though I had placed _'Kim Possible's_ identity on temporary suspension, the nightmares had still found me and haunted me in my sleep. Every morning I wake up panting, covered in a coat of my own sweat, stuck with the vivid memory of _'his'_ blood on my fists and the horror upon the many faceless witnesses to my crime as I ran past them. All my self acclaimed logic and rational thinking in a crisis had left me in this split moment, simultaneously remembering the past and trying to focus on the present.

I can't recall the horrified screams or the Ambulance and Police sirens approaching from opposite directions as I fought myself through the crowded parade route. So why can I recall, so clearly, the desperate gasping of a body clinging to life, leaving a sickening gurgling sound echoing in my mind? It was the sound of a boy … no, young man, drowning in his own blood. All I had done was stare down at him. Reliving a haze of flashbacks from the previous seconds over and over again in my mind. It had been a brutal and ecstatic burst of emotion, accompanied by the dull cracks of bone, all being administered in an irrational frenzy upon someone who had done nothing to earn it.

These sensations plague me, sicken me and I can not for the life of me suppress the memory of the sadistic rapture I felt as I stood for those brief moment above him looking down upon his fetal and contorted form. I had become a gleeful sentry to his pain.

But after months of denial and loneliness I have found a small piece of strength and resolve to confront what I have done. Even if this lead's to only more loneliness and estrangement. At the very least I will be able to provide people with closure to their hatred and disappointment. I will be able to discover what I had done to my bestest-best friend.

_**88888**_

With a heavy hand, the once vibrant teenager, pressed the white button and heard the familiar chimes echo within her former home. The seconds lagged to minutes in her mind, and then to hours within this same active imagination. Each millisecond she felt the need and the desire to depart and escape down the street. It was a sound strategy born from a coward's fear, but fear and terror lost out to the crisp opening of the door in front of her.

"I hope that this is something important. Nine p.m. is hardly a respectable time to make … Miss? Is everything alright? You're crying? Are you hurt? What's wrong? I'm sorry if I snapped but …*"

Kim offered a choking laugh at the sound of confusion and concern in her father's voice. A father who could not recognize his own daughter. Had she changed so much in the months she had been in hiding? The new hair style and color was a definite throw off, but surely he must have recognized some similar element shared between the teenager she once was to what she presented herself now.

"Daddy … I'm so sorry, daddy."

"K… kimmicub?"

Kimberly Anne Possible did not have the chance to offer an affirmative to her question as she was taken harshly into a bone crushing embrace.

Through her blurred vision, a sight obscured by flowing tears she could witness her own father's begin to pool in happy emotion.

Fiercely Kim pulled herself deeper into her father's chest to help hide her face. She could feel the coppery taste of her own blood seep from her outer lower lip into her mouth from where she had bitten down. This was how she managed her happiness now. Whenever she felt a swell of joy, whether it be minor or major, and for the past several weeks they have all been very, very minor she would balance it all out by inflicting upon herself a delivery of pain. This pain helped keep her grounded in what she had done and helped force her to remember the horror she inflicted upon her best friend. It was another 'punishment' that she now welcomed as her atonement to Ron. It was, in her opinion a small price to pay, and though she had worked hard to target regions of her body with small self-inflictions, area's that would not be visible. She found herself many times these past few days fighting the impulse not to extend her collection of small scar's and lighter burns from her zones of 'concealment'.

Though her voice was muffled she could not delay her question. The question hung as silent and as still as the night itself and she could feel her father tense as she had asked it.

"Daddy, what happened to Ron?"

_**888888888**_

_A/N:_

_Just a taste._

_So what do you think?_

_To dramatic? To bland?_

_A little darker then most fic's. Yes, there was a reference to some 'self-harming' by Kim, and if any of you could catch the reference you will probably know that this is an alternative-shot of the Mood-ulator Episode where Kim kept going in flux between Lovey-dovey and Cybil on Ron. Special thanks to daccu for setting this out for me. Sorry I have been away for a while; found myself in Hospital for a bit, even now I am on monster Pain Killer's so everything is pretty funky …lol._

_Don't forget to Review._

_Oh and YES, Ron survived Kim's bashing, but he is hardly in the mind to readily forgive her for it …lol._

_**888888888**_


	2. Chapter 2

Her father had never been a forceful man; at least she couldn't remember him ever being forceful with herself, Jim, Tim, or her mother. So she was surprised when he seized her arms with an iron grip and drew her, hastily, into the house. There was no warmth in the physical exchange, simply a desperate move to keep her from escaping.

Even though she loved her father dearly, and she always would, she had to admit that her mother was the one who ran the family. Outside of work, her father was content as long as he had a newspaper to read, a pipe to smoke, and no 'show folk' visiting. It wasn't that her father was foolish; the fact was that he chose to live in a 'Leave it to Beaver' fantasy world. He was aggressively uncomplicated and Kim loved him for it. She also loved that she could make him squirm, simply by mentioning boys, dances and midriff baring fashions.

It wasn't just his flaws that she loved; she loved his upbeat outlook on life and his positive attitude towards others. She loved his intense passion for aerospace, a consuming drive that had enabled him to make a career out of something he enjoyed so much. Still, no matter how many things she loved about the man, there were a few things that, at this moment, scared her. One of the things that she loved about him, but was frighteningly absent, was his indecisiveness. She was about to ask a question and she didn't think that she could handle the plain, unembellished truth. She desperately needed him to sugar-coat his answer, when he told her Ron Stoppable's fate.

A chill ran down her spine, prompted by her father herding her into her childhood home and locking the door behind her. She quickly realized that there was something wrong with the dim environment, something grandly amiss. It was quiet, too quiet. It was only 9 PM and the house was silent. There was no music, no TV, no heated discussion about the Rocket Boosters, no…Tweebs.

Dr James Possible observed his daughter's startled expression and was able to guess what she was thinking. He released her shoulder and faced her.

"The twins have turned in for the night," he informed his daughter.

"But don't they usually stay up till ten?"

"Things have changed Kimmie-cub; you should have realized that they would. The neighbors just don't tolerate some of our…eccentricities…anymore." The aging scientist favored his daughter with a pained grin. "They used to think that it was marvelous, having neighborhood kids capable of sending missiles into the stratosphere but after…after what happened to Ronald, they started to look at it differently. They realized the potential danger and reported us to Child Protective Services. Child Protective Services investigated us, interviewed the neighbors and came up with a negative report. The courts have imposed some parameters upon us and one of those parameters is a reasonable bedtime for pre-teens. We have to abide by these parameters or risk the courts placing the boys in foster care."

A lone tear ran down her face and she wrapped her arms around herself. As bad as she felt, hearing this news only made her feel worse. "Oh, Daddy, I'm so sorry. This is my fault."

"No Kimmie, your mother and I are to blame. Child Protective Services is right. Your mother and I worked long, odd hours and provided very little in the way of parental supervision. Up until now, the neighbors have been very tolerant. Let's face it, how many times has one of the boys' rocket experiments destroyed the Cranston's roof? How many times has a helicopter landed in the front yard, at any hour of the day, and disturbed everybody within two blocks? Trust me, Kimmie-Cub; if your mother and I didn't agree with the comments, we would be challenging them. The sad truth is that we've been indifferent parents and inconsiderate neighbors."

"We didn't intentionally cause these disruptions," James continued. "But we didn't try to prevent them, either. How hard would it have been to have the boys go to Miller's Field, where there isn't a structure within 300 yards, to perform their experiments? How hard would it have been to have Wade arrange for pick-ups and drop-offs away from the neighborhood? We've been an inconsiderate family, Kim, and the blame falls on the heads of the household, your mother and I. We've finally had the fact rubbed in our face, so we need to change our behavior if we want to be good neighbors."

Kim was shocked into speechlessness. She had never considered herself a nuisance but now that her father had given her an unbiased description of her life, she saw that she was. How many times had a GJ Heli-Jet converted Mr. Phelps's prized garden into a green, gooey mass? How many times had she promised the dear, old man that she would help him replant it, only to be distracted by another mission, leaving the sixty-something to perform the task, himself? She could have simply asked Wade to arrange for the pick-ups and drop-offs at the Smartymart Parking Lot, a mere five blocks away, which would have eliminated any disruption. Then there were the tweebs. Kim had to admit that they had a tendency to get carried away with their experiments, not stopping until they had managed to cause some sort of structural damage. Because nobody had every complained about their…colorful activities…the Possibles, herself included, had assumed that nobody minded. No, the neighbors were just too polite to mention anything. With an additional guilty twinge, she realized that they might have felt intimidated; who would dare interfere with one of her missions, for fear of having the press label them an obstruction?

"Daddy, what happened to Ron?" She asked, pushing everything but the most important issue out of her mind. "Please tell me."

Dr. James Possible didn't answer her immediately. Instead, he used one hand, the one that he hadn't removed from her arm, to guide her into the Family Room. With the other hand, he gestured towards the large, art-deco sofa within. "Why don't we sit down, first?"

Kim numbly complied, knowing that her father wouldn't be taking such precautions if he were about to provide positive answers. She felt frightened and vulnerable, like a four-year old child awaiting a deserved scolding.

Kim didn't know how long they sat, silently. It felt like an eternity as her father studied his floor, carefully choosing the words he was about to say. Finally, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and began his account.

"Let me start by saying that your mother was in an odd mood, when you and Ronald left for the festival," James's smile was genuine for the beginning of his explanation.

"The last time she had been in such a mood…well, we wound up with your brothers nine months later. She was actually skipping around the house, singing to herself. I laughed and made fun of her behavior, but she didn't care. Anyway, we were just getting ready for bed when her pager went off. She wasn't on-call but the medical center had just received an emergency case that required her skills, immediately. The on-call doctor gave her a briefing while I drove her in." Here, her fathers smile started to fade.

"I didn't want her to be distracted by the phone while driving; traffic was very heavy with the festival taking place. The only real information he was able to give her was that the patient was a male, in his late teens, with cerebral hemorrhaging. This hemorrhaging had been caused by impact injuries, sustained during a savage attack. They needed her to perform immediate surgery to relieve the pressure, caused by the bleeding." Here, James's smile completely vanished. "Once she arrived in the Operating Room they gave her the victim's name. It…it was Ronald, Kimmie."

"Oh my God!"

"Y-your mother told me, later, that she couldn't recognize him. He had several facial injuries and the b-bruising…well, you understand." James loosened his shirt collar with one finger and continued. "Your mother was close to panic when she discovered how badly Ronald had been mauled. She assumed that he had been attacked by one of your enemies and since you weren't in the Waiting Room she…assumed the worst. She called me and I called the police, trying to locate you."

"Still, your mother is a professional," he continued. "She did he best to ignore her fears and concentrate on saving Ron. Later, she told me that it was the longest procedure she has ever performed. Knowing that she was distracted, she second and third guessed every action she took. I suppose that's why it's against the medical center's policy for doctor's to treat family members; they're too emotionally involved. Ronald might not be a Possible but you mother loved…loves…him like a son. The stress she was under affected her work, unfortunately."

"Daddy, what happened? Is he okay?"

James Possible took another deep breath, solemnly shaking his head before forging onward with his explanation.

"He … he was in a coma for three days after the operation," James sighed. "And those three days were Hell for everyone; you were missing and Mr. and Mrs. Stoppable were beside themselves with worry. On top of that, the police were compiling witness statements and it was becoming obvious that you…you were the one who had attacked him. Mrs. Stoppable was, understandably livid. She…she actually threw a vase at your mother. Your mother was checking on Ronald's progress and had the misfortune to meet Ronald's mother, right after the police had given the Stoppable's an update on the investigation. Mrs. Stoppable snapped; she had to be restrained and sedated."

"Then the rumours started," James continued, now even more uncomfortable. "Keep in mind that you're a major, local celebrity and, at the very least, a minor national celebrity. The police were conducting their investigation; they were stingy with their findings so people started to speculate about why you attacked him. Most people couldn't believe that someone with your reputation would ever…continue the assault to that extent unless he had provoked you. A few news outlets started to suggest that he may have…tried to take advantage of you, or even force his attentions on you."

"WHAT!?!? That's not true! I don't know why I did…what I did, but Ron didn't do anything like that!"

"I didn't think that he did," James answered her. "But those _**news**_ sources they…they never actually said that he did it. They just kept suggesting that he might have and that would explain why you injured him so severely. Before long this…innuendo became reality, at least in some people's minds." James sniffled, "it wasn't long before the demonstrators appeared in front of the Stoppables' house."

"But he didn't do it," Kim insisted. "We were never in a private setting! If he had tried anything, someone would have seen it!"

"I know sweetheart. Wade got an e-mail from one of your foes, that _Shego_ woman. Apparently, she had either seen the _**news**_ or had read some of the _**papers**_ and she realized that she had experienced some erratic behavior while you were attacking Ronald. She reported that some chip had become attached to her, during an earlier fight with you. She theorized that another chip might have become attached to you. Fortunately for Drew, hers burnt out while she was preparing to attack him, at about the same time that you were attacking Ronald. Wade reviewed that mission and spoke to the inventor who had developed the chips. He reported that he had made two prototypes, and that they were both missing. Since Drew's employee could account for one the police concluded that her hypothesis was correct. Unfortunately, the news outlets didn't report this with anything approaching the zeal with which they suggested Ronald was a would-be rapist. While the police have stated, publicly, that he isn't a rape suspect, the newspapers buried the story as far back, and in the finest print, that they could."

Quivering with rage, James Possible snarled, "Heaven forbid that they would actually own up to the fact that what they had suggested was wrong. They shouted from the rooftops when they shredded Ronald's reputation, but they whispered into a well when it was time to admit their mistake."

Kim shivered with remorse; what she had done to Ron went far beyond just physical injury. Her tears fell silently along her cheeks and she made no efforts to wipe them away. How she desperately wished that she was anywhere else but here, but she knew that she needed to hear this. She had hidden herself far too effectively for the last two months; she needed to face the reality of what she had done and the conclusions that people had drawn.

Dr. Possible took a deep breath, composing himself for what he would have to tell her. He could feel his 'Kimmie-Cub' sobbing and trembling at his side. He desperately wanted to embrace her, to tell her that everything would be better in the morning, but he knew that it would be a lie. She had to face what she had done, what had happened afterwards and the longer he avoided revealing the painful consequences, the harder it would be for her to finally deal with them. Mentally he kept repeating to himself that it was _'just like pulling off a bandaid'_, but deep down he knew this metaphor could not do justice to the current situation.

"Ronald started to receive letters and get-well cards, shortly after he awoke," he told his daughter. "Actually, he started to receive them while he was still in a coma, but he obviously couldn't read them. All of us, including your mother and Mrs. Stoppable, thought they would lift his spirits. Most of them were just what they appeared to be; genuine outpourings of sincerity and hope from people who remembered being helped by you and Ron; people who wanted him to make a speedy and complete recovery. Unfortunately, about one in ten wasn't as … genuine. Your mother finished work early the first day he was allowed to read them and came home in tears. It took me a full hour to calm her down enough so that she could tell me what was wrong. Apparently, the batch of well wishes he received included several letters and cards telling him that he … well there were people who obviously didn't get the news that Ron never attacked you, like the popular media had suggested."

"D…daddy, what did these cards and letters say?"

"I … I don't know the _exact_ language. I never saw them but your mother walked into his room after she completed her rounds, to check up on him. She said that he was unresponsive to her presence. His face was wet with tears and he had a _get-well card_ saying that _'People like him should be castrated'_, in his hands. No return name or return address on the card, of course. There were several more such cards and letters, saying what should happen to '_Creeps and perverts like him_', on the floor beside his bed."

"I'm not a violent person, Angel. You know that, but when your mother told me what strangers had done, people who didn't even know Ron had sent to him…while he was recuperating in a hospital?!? I saw red, I just wanted to find these poor excuses of … of … I never wanted to hurt anyone more in my entire life."

Kim buried her face into her father's chest and felt him wrap his arm gently around her. "They didn't do anything to Ron, daddy. I did! Everything that happened was my fault, everything! The … chip, as you said, might have influenced me to become violent, but I was the one who ran away. If I had stayed, I could have protected him from this; I could have answered questions and given the public someone other than Ron to blame. This is my fault, what happened to you and mom, the twins, Ron. It's my fault, all of it."

For the following five minutes, the only sounds to be heard in the quiet Lounge were Kim's muffled sobs. James Possible gently stroked what remained of his daughter's dyed hair and patted her back. Finally, Kim regained her composure, dropping the room once more into silence. The rocket scientist shut his eyes tightly, hating himself for having to continue the sad tale, but he knew that Kim had to hear it.

"Why the chip, Kimmy?" The question was crisp and held in its four simple words a desperate need to be answered.

Half-dosing after her emotional outpouring, Kim drew back her head with a confused look. "I swear I didn't know that that psycho doctor had these chips in his lab when I…we took the mission. I didn't even know that I had one attached to me. It was just another, standard, stop Drakken and Shego assignment."

"That's not the chip I was talking about, Kimmie. The Emergency Room Staff took a series of x-rays, and other scans, as part of prepping Ron for the operation your mother performed. They found an oddity on the scans, a … a chip, lodged in the apex of his spine, some kind of tracking chip. They removed it of course, but they had to wait until Ron had come out of his coma and was well enough to speak before they could ask him about it. Kim, he claimed that he didn't know anything about it."

Dr. Possible repositioned himself so he could look deep into Kim's teary eyes. "Kim, he said that your young computer friend might know something though. Something about the two of you hinting about it but being vague when he asked. Ron said that when he asked Wade directly, all he got were coy responses. When the medical staff contacted Mr. Load, he admitted to implanting the chip inside Ron one night, two-years earlier, while Ron was sleeping in his room. Wade then said that he did so at your insistence. Is … is this true, Kimmie?"

Kim tried to pull away, but James Possible held her firmly in place. "Kim, is this true?!?"

Not being able to force out the words, she just limply nodded her head.

"Why on Earth would you do that too him?"

This was the first time in years that Kim had been subjected to her Father's direct anger. This anger, mixed with disappointment, left her shocked and unable to speak. She knew that he wanted an explanation but all she could offer was a miserable look.

"Ron's Jewish, Kim."

"I KNOW HE'S JEWISH, DAD! I don't care that he's Jewish. I didn't hurt him, the chip allowed us, Wade and I, to keep track of him, to know where he was at all times, that's all. It was painless."

"To keep _'track of him'_? To track and record his movements and identify him?"

"Yes."

"Like a barcode, _serial number_, or a _TATTOO_?"

It only took Kim a moment to grasp the reference. "No, no, no. Daddy, no, it was nothing like that, I swear. I was truly worried that Ron might get lost, or hurt, or taken during one of our missions. That's why we chipped him. It was our very own Ron GPS. There was nothing … _nazi-ish_ about it."

"Try telling that to Ron's mother. She lost a large portion of her family in the camps, so when she found out that you were involved with…tagging her son, she was understandably upset. When the police suggested that you had been under the influence of a…Moodulator, she was ready to forgive you but when she found out about the tracking chip… That it had been installed years earlier…" James Possible took a deep breath. "She requested a restraining order and the courts agreed. No Possible can come within 50 feet of any member of the Stoppable Family, or risk arrest. The courts allowed your mother to treat Ron, under supervision of other medical staff, but she lost all rights to visit him as soon as he was discharged. We haven't had any direct contact with Ron for the last three weeks. No contact, none of us. I don't think that Jim and Tim understand everything that's happening. They understand the logical aspects but not the emotional ones, like the protesters and the restraining order. It's been rough on them; first their big sister disappears and then their 'big brother' is out of their lives, as well."

"Wade tried to argue with the Judge who issued the order, saying that he didn't act with prejudicial malice, only Ron's safety. He claimed that he was wrong but his motives were misunderstood and the events were blown out of proportion. Unfortunately, he was in so much trouble that it sounded like a lame excuse."

"What do you mean?"

"Kim, does Wade have a Medical License to perform invasive procedures in the State of Colorado? Did he seek Ron's approval or, since Ron is a minor, the Stoppables' approval, before performing this illegal procedure? Had the AMA, UL, or any other testing body approved the tracking chip for insertion into a human body? For such a clever boy, he did something incredibly foolish. Not only did he commit a bushel basket full of criminal offenses, some people see the act of inserting the chip as a violation of privacy, so he's in trouble with the civil courts, as well. His age isn't a defense; the DA is arguing that if he's intelligent enough to graduate from MIT then he's smart enough to know his action's ethical implications. If this does go to trial and he's convicted, he's looking at 10 years.

"WHAT?!? But I was the one who put him up to it. ME!!!"

"But he's the one who _did_ it. You had no authority over him, you don't pay him a salary and you have no leverage over him. So even if you asked him to do it, he's going to have to take the responsibility for his actions. Right now, he's on house-arrest, not allowed access to any computers or other technical equipment, awaiting his trial."

"But Ron, when they asked him…"

"This has nothing to do with Ron, you should understand that. The State doesn't view a criminal act as a crime against the victim; it views the act as a crime against the State. As soon as the hospital discovered the chip, they _had_ to report it to the Police and the various law enforcement agencies took it from there. It's just like if a child was bought into the ER with obvious signs of abuse and neglect. The staff is obligated to report their concerns to the proper authorities. The Middleton Police did the investigation and questioned both Ron and Wade. This isn't a civil dispute Kim; Wade broke the law – period! As much as Ron tried to downplay everything as a simple prank gone wrong, Wade's fate is out of his hands."

James released another sigh and gently released Kim from his grasp. "Do you know how many of the hospital's department heads are either Jewish or married to someone who's Jewish? Do you know how many of the physicists at the space center are Jewish? Now, do you know how many Temples are here in Middleton? One. Do the math, Kimmie; it doesn't matter that you didn't intend for your chip to be a slight toward Ron's religion, some people perceive it that way. Fortunately, the doctors and scientists your mother and I work with aren't much for overreacting, but many of them go to Temple with less objective attendees. They're under a great deal of pressure to distance themselves from us and, as kind and objective as they are, it's having an effect. It wouldn't be fair to ask them to distance themselves from friends and family for our sakes. This last month has proven to be quite professionally alienating for your mother and me, so I apologize if I'm a bit surly about the whole issue."

"But I didn't mean it that way! I meant it like…a locator on an airliner, something that would help me find him, in case the worst happened."

"Then why didn't you chip his watch, a belt buckle, anything that he wears? You could have given him something, as a gift, with the chip inside. You know that he would always wear anything you gave him. For that matter, why didn't you have Wade implant a chip in you?"

"I didn't have Wade chip Ron's _things_ because I didn't want to protect Ron's things, I wanted to protect _him_! If I had Wade…no…if _**I**_ chipped Ron's watch I could always find his watch. What good would that do if he lost the watch or one of the bad guys took Ron and stripped him? Wade said that the chip was very expensive and took up a lot of his computer's run time, so he could only make one. Why do you think I had Wade install it in Ron and not me? I don't care if I get lost or captured; I'm the one who chose this life! I'm the one who gained the fame so I'd deserve anything that happened to me. Ron, on the other hand, only came along because he was my friend. That's why I chose RON to receive the chip and I knew that if I asked him to take it he would insist that I take it instead. THAT'S why we… I didn't tell him! That's why I had Wade do it in the middle of the night, while Ron was asleep."

"I believe you, Kimmie. Both your mother and I know how much you care for Ronald but, with all of the other events taking place…well, Mrs. Stoppable had had too much. And to be frank, I can't really blame her; if we, your mother and I, had to watch you go through just half of what Ron's endured…I doubt I could have kept your mother out of the knife drawer. You have to understand that all parents are protective towards their children and the more suffering their children endure; the more the parent becomes determined to protect that child from anything else. So, I think you can appreciate why the Stoppables, who are usually so friendly and forgiving, took the actions that they did."

Kim just couldn't bear the guilt any longer. Moving slowly and deliberately, she drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, as if she were trying to shrink herself into the smallest space she could. She couldn't face her father, choosing to stare at the carpet instead. After several painful moments, she voiced her thoughts with as much determination as she could muster, ignoring the burning in her eyes.

"Daddy," she asked, in a small voice. "How can I fix this? I need to fix this! I can't have Wade and Ron hating me, I just can't! Except for you guys, who live in this house, they're the two most important people in my life, especially Ron. He…he's so much a part of me, daddy, I can't remember anything important where he wasn't at my side. I don't have any good memories without him in them and now all I have are bad ones. Ones that run in a constant loop in my mind every time I close my eyes. Ones in which I see my own fists and kicks strike him, at full strength, over and over again. If …if Ron were to start hating me or, even worse, ignoring me, I might as well just kill myself."

"DON'T SAY THAT!" James roared at his daughter. Again, Kim found herself stunned to be the target of her father's emotional wrath. "Don't EVER say that again, Kimberly, not even to make a point. Do you have any idea what you've put us though? All of us have been living that very nightmare, that very scenario for the past eight weeks! Do you have any idea what it's like to wake up every morning, assuming you've actually managed to fall asleep, and wonder if today was the day the police will show up at our Lab or doorstep and ask to come down to the morgue and identify your daughter's body? Do you know what it's like to get to the point that you almost hope it would happen, so you'll at least have an answer to _'what happened to our little girl'_?"

Shego, Drakken, Killigan, none of them could match the sheer emotion in her father's glare. "So don't use that phrase around me, Kimberly, EVER AGAIN! If you want more sympathy, find yourself another line."

Kim's lips trembled; subjected to the pain and fear her father had let her glimpse. "D-daddy…" she began, trying to find some way to let him know how sorry she was to have put him through his torment.

"I had to drive to Go City two weeks ago," James interrupted her, his voice now soft and trembling. "The Go City police found a body in an alley. The body belonged to a slender, athletic, Caucasian, teenaged girl. I can remember every second of that drive, how my hands were shaking so badly that I could barely keep my car in the proper lane. I remember trying to rehearse the call I would make to your mother if…" James lapsed into silence, only to rally and continue. "Well, it obviously wasn't you. When the coroner pulled out that drawer and I saw that young girl in front of me and saw a stranger I…I don't really know how to properly describe what I felt. I was grateful and relieved, of course but then I felt a surge of guilt about having these positive emotions. I actually laughed for a moment I was so relieved and then it hit me like a cider block from above, this young girl in front of me someone's daughter, and she was still dead. I dare I feel happy for that? Do you know what it's like to feel relief that someone else, some other parent was going to have to claim her? Then, all of the fear I had pushed down since that morning came back, and it came back with a vengeance. You were still out there, somewhere, and I didn't know if you were alive, hurt, captured, sick, starving or anything. All I knew was that you were either unable, or unwilling, to come home."

"I know, daddy," Kim sobbed, now unable to stop the tears. "But y-you have to believe me, I j-just couldn't face everyone. I couldn't even face myself. Why do you think I dyed my hair? It wasn't because I didn't want to be found, it was because I desperately wanted to believe that I was someone else. I drifted from shelter to shelter, called in some favors when I could. I even did some things that I…I'm not exactly proud of."

Kim grasped her father's arms, prompted by the sharp gasp he emitted at this news. Kim knew exactly what he must have assumed she had done, on the uncaring streets, to put food in her mouth.

"No daddy, no. I…stole…I shoplifted. Sometimes I did a couple of shifts as a waitress, but that didn't work out so well. I guess I should have learned my lesson from working those three-days at _Bueno Nacho_, I'm just not cut out for the 'Service Industry', huh?"

"You mean…" Kim had difficulty reading his expression in the dimming room, but she could feel how much he wanted to feel relief. "I mean, stealing is bad enough but when you get right down to it, we can replace _things_. You didn't… I mean, some things can be replaced but other _things_, once given or taken away … well, these things can never be recovered, ever."

Kim wished that she could laugh or even giggle at the way the tension poured away from her father, but the fact was that she had come all to close to living out his fear during a few of her darkest moments. She had more than a few offers, from the creeps who hung around some of the 'shelters'. These areas were, after all, prime recruitment areas for the pimps who took advantage of women's emotional and economic difficulties.

Kim had eventually fallen in with a collection of women, who were worn down by the street life. In some sad, sick way, she had looked at them as her mentors, and their advice as pure gold. They had provided her with the benefit of their own experiences, plus the stories that they had heard when they, like her, had first found themselves alone and drifting. Sitting next to her father, she could easily recall the stories and warnings; delivered in voices prematurely aged by smoking tobacco, pot, meth, or whatever else they had inhaled. While she could remember the stories, she could only recall one face.

While Julie was 28 in the wrong light, meaning good lighting, she looked closer to 40. The older woman had been a character, a staple face at her last shelter. By the time she met the older woman, Kim only had the last, fading dregs of her self-respect left. She was now just another teenaged runaway; another body in the faceless masses that, for some reason, Julie decided to take under her wing. Despite the woman's friendly (relatively speaking) demeanor, Kim had no doubts about the woman's motivation in befriending her. Her 'older sister' was a little subtler than most of the other predators, hinting at a partnership that would eventually swing to the older woman's benefit. Kim had seen plenty of after school specials but had been shocked by how close the TV horror shows could reflect reality. Shortly after Julie befriended her, Kim saw the future the other woman had planned; she was planning on introducing Kim to alcohol, then pot then other substances to help her endure. She also joked about how Kim could earn some quick pocket money by turning tricks. She would make the joking suggestion, wait a few days then repeat it. Pure luck, chance itself, had given Kim the ability to break free before taking the woman up on her suggestions.

Kim could clearly see how the woman was trying to manipulate her. By this time, the teen had realized that not all pimps were male but the prospect of 'working' for Julie was getting less and less unthinkable. Fortunately for the disguised redhead, on night Julie stumbled into the shelter drunk, high, or maybe even punch-drunk from a fight. Sprawled on her bed, the street veteran related her life's story.

Julie hadn't been her class valedictorian, but she had been an honor roll student and active in numerous clubs and teams. She had secured acceptance at the college of her choice and had put in three semesters towards her degree before things fell apart for her. She hadn't exactly burned out, but she had started to hang with the wrong crowd, one that wasn't exactly motivated to succeed. With her new friends around her, the younger Julie had entered a world of alcohol and drugs, paring her college activities down to the bare minimum, in order to make time for her new hobby. Over time, attending parties became more important than attending classes. She returned home, after her sophomore year, with bags under her eyes, a failing report card, and no desire to build anything resembling a career. Her straight-laced family had taken immediate action.

Rather than condemn her, her family tried to regain the vibrant, happy, motivated young woman they used to know. They sent her to rehab twice and she escaped the facility twice, returning home for free meals and lodging. On their third attempt to get her straightened out, while they were dragging her, kicking and screaming to the family car, she broke free and attacked her mother. After than, she was no longer welcome in her childhood home.

Like many junkies on the street, Julie learned how to survive on her wits and with the attributes that God had given her. By now, the minimum wage jobs she could land didn't pay enough to feed her habit, much less feed, clothe and house her. She started out as a stripper, a job that brought in some good money but left her feeling tainted, which only fueled her drug and alcohol addiction. The drinking, drugs and poor diet quickly marred the former homecoming queen's beauty and her income started to shrink. Before long, the professional men who made up her clientele demanded younger, prettier girls to ogle and she found herself working at a lower class establishment. Six months later, the office workers in that audience made a similar demand and she found herself dancing for the benefit of assembly line workers. A corresponding drop in income accompanied each drop in the clientele's social standing. She was forced to explore other areas of adult entertainment, in order to survive. As her health degenerated, she decided that she had to get out of the 'labor' end of this particular enterprise and enter the managerial field.

At that point, Kim realized just how close she was to hopping on the same slide for a quick, painful trip to rock bottom. Her last flickering remnants of self-respect broadcast a last desperate message; "_You don't deserve this! Your family loves you. You don't have to end up like her! If you follow her path, who will you corrupt, when your turn comes?"_

Leaving her would be 'manager' behind, Kim left the shelter behind her, found her way to a train station, jumped into an open freight car and played hobo back to Middleton, determined to deal with the actions that had prompted her to flee.

"No daddy, I didn't," she sighed. "It took someone else to make me realize how far I had fallen and how far I could still fall. I…saw my future and I didn't like it. In a strange way, she helped me find the nerve to come home."

"To be honest, I don't care about the reason," James told her, tears pouring down his face again. "I'm so happy that you're here now. Please, don't ever run off again." With that, James Possible lunged forward again, crushing Kim in a massive hug, as if afraid that she was just some cruel figment of his imagination.

Kim remained silent, returning the hug and shedding tears of her own. Finally, she found the strength to pull back slightly and deal with the mater at hand.

"I just want everything to be like it was before, daddy," she whispered. "Everything. Please, just tell me what I need to do and I'll do it, whatever it takes."

"It's not that simple, Kimmie," James sighed. "Some things can't be repaired after they're destroyed. You can only try to build them up all over again."

"Are you talking about Ron?" Kim asked, now frightened. "What does Ron think about me? Does he even… does he even want me around anymore?"

"I don't really know, Kimmie," James Possible sighed, once again. "It's rather hard to tell, since the restraining order has kept us away from him. When he was in the hospital and your mother still had regular, if supervised contact, he asked about you constantly. Their standard method of interaction was for your mother to ask him how he was feeling and he only answering if she first told him if there was any news about you. Of course, there never was. Still, despite everything that boy had gone through, he was more worried about your wellbeing than his own."

"After his discharge, we weren't allowed any contact with him," James continued, showing another, small, rare, genuine smile. "However, the judge failed to include Rufus in the restraining order. For the first week, a naked mole rat visited our house three times a day, morning, afternoon, and late evening. He always carried a note from Ronald and the note was always the same, 'have you heard anything about or from Kim?' Unfortunately, we always had to say no."

"As time went on, Rufus only visited twice a day, then only once," James forged forward, now melancholy again. "He hasn't visited us at all, for the last week. The boys emailed Ron a couple of times, routing the message through Sweden. The only thing Ron said was that he was sure you were capable of taking care of yourself; he couldn't picture you not enjoying your family life so that he guessed that something else was keeping you away. After that, he quit responding and I told the boys to quit trying."

"Daddy, I have to make things right with Ron!" Kim protested. "While I was gone, I missed him more than anyone else. I'm sorry to say it, but I missed him more than I missed you, mom and my own brothers. I…I can't just let him go."

"I know, sweetie," James replied, after taking a deep breath. "But you need to know that for all the physical beating he took, the emotional toll was probably worse. He's hurting, Kimmie, and I don't know if that hurt will ever heal up completely. We've spoken to some of your mutual friends, Monique, Felix and some of the girls on the cheerleading squad. He's…he's not the same Ronald he used to be. He's sullen, withdrawn. He no longer want's to play video games all night with Felix, or challenge Monique to speed eating contests. I'm not saying that your friendship can't endure this, I'm saying that I don't think things are ever going to be the same for the two of you, or for any of us." At Kim's raised eyebrow he offered another sad smile, "Yes Kimmie, I think the twins miss him as much as you do."

"Now, before you start making any plans," James continued, in a stern voice. "I want to say that I know you're going to try to patch things up with him, even if the law tells you not to. I'm not giving you permission to break the restraining order, I'm just saying that I know you'll follow your heart, no matter what I, your mother, or the law says. All I want to say is that Ronald may not be ready to just forget everything that happened. You're going to have to give him time and space, Kim. If you push too hard, you may damage things beyond any hope of healing."

"So what do I do, daddy?" I didn't realize how important Ron was to me until I ran away. I thought about him every day, even the worst ones. He's more important to me than I ever thought possible."

"I know."

"No, you don't."

"Actually, I do, Kimmie. I had some long, informative, shocking and surprising talks with Mr. Bortel. Considering the way you just vanished, I had some real concerns about your state of mind. I was afraid that this untested emotional manipulation might have…well…damaged you somehow. I needed to find out if the chip might have caused you to abandon us."

"I have to say that as much as I resent that man's ethics, as much as I look forward to all of his research grants drying up, I'm impressed with his skill and record keeping. He was able to provide your mother and me with a very detailed overview on how his device operated and how it affected its subjects. Our discussion was…enlightening."

"Enlightening, daddy?!?" Kim protested. "He ruined my life, he ruined Ron's life. Do you really think he deserves that kind of praise?"

"I'm not praising him, Kimmie," James corrected her. "His Moodulator Project was very irresponsible. All of the ethics regarding emotion manipulation aside, he built untested devices that interface with the human nervous system. I cannot condone what he did, but I have to admit that he is a very capable researcher who kept very thorough records. Despite my ethical and moral objections, I have to acknowledge genius when I see it."

"But daddy, he's…" Kim faltered, searching for words.

"Look, Kimberly, I'm the last man who'll defend what he attempted to accomplish," James interrupted, in an attempt to mollify his daughter and explain his stance. "But you have to admit that he didn't try to victimize anybody with it. It's not like he shouted out an invite for Drew and this Shego character to break in and try and steal his research. It's not like he planned for these…Moodulator Chips…to wind up on you and Shego during your fight. As odd as it may sound, he feels just as much responsibility about what happened to Ron as you do."

"Well, he should!"

"And he does." Dr. Possible concluded, brushing several stray hairs back from his daughter's pale face. "Kimmie, can I ask you a question?"

"You haven't asked very many so far, daddy," Kim replied, feeling a strange comfort at her father adjusting her abused hair. "To be honest, I was expecting a full out interrogation. "

"Why don't we save that small slice of Hell until your mother can play, hmmm?"

"Where is Mom anyway?" Kim had to smile at the small joke.

"At the hospital. One of her patients needed an immediate procedure, and the operating theater had an unexpected slot open up. She'll be here in the morning, probably exhausted and grouchy, so finding out you're back will be an excellent start to her day, don't you think?"

"I'll pass judgement for the moment. What's your question, daddy?"

"Did you feel those powerful emotions towards anyone except Ronald, while you were under the influence of that wretched Moodulator chip? Was there anybody else?"

"I… I don't think so," Kim strained to remember. "So much has happened that it isn't easy to recall, but I _**think**_ I dealt with everyone else pretty much the same as always. Maybe I was a little bit short and snarky with one or two, but that might have been because we didn't stop Drakken the day before. Most of the strong feelings were about Ron. Why?"

"Because, according to that idiot scientist, his chips don't impose emotions, they amplify them. He proposed that Ronald had become your…emotional nexus…before you ran afoul of that chip. Did anything take place between you and Ronald in the days and weeks before the festival, anything that could have piqued your positive and negative emotions about him?"

"About Ron? Well…the week before…before the festival there was something that …sort of tweaked me, but we completely sorted it all out."

"Well, what was it?"

"A…a Japanese exchange student showed up for a one week visit, completely out of the blue. Ron had met her last year, when he was the exchange student. Since they already knew each other, I guess it made sense to have him be her guide. The two of them spent a lot of time with each other, you know, with him showing her around the school and the town. I don't think he was out of her sight for that week, she even showed up and watched our cheer rehearsals."

"It didn't bother me that they were with each other all the time," she continued, her expression growing darker. "But she acted like…she owned him, or something. I mean, she expected him to go with her wherever she wanted to go. Whenever she wanted to see something, or go anywhere, she just expected him to come along. Then there was the way she acted towards him, it was all Stoppable-san this and Stoppable-san that."

"_Oh, Stoppable-san_," Kim mimicked. "_You and your American sense of humor_. _Oh, Stoppable-san, it is my fortune to have you guide me._ I mean, could you be any more obvious? Oh, he wasn't any better, saying that it was his honor to make her stay as pleasant as he could." Without her knowledge, Kim's voice had dropped to a grating snarl. However, her voice had returned to its normal tone when she continued.

"Can you blame me for being tense about the sitch? You know what Ron can be like, he was going totally overboard and she was practically an ambassador. There was Ron, our representative of all things American, practically tripping over his own tongue whenever she so much as smiled at him. We could have had a major, international incident! So yes, I wasn't exactly pleased that he was spending so much time with her, alone. I mentioned that she was a girl, right? What kind of girl spends that much time alone with a boy, unless he's her boyfriend? A floozie, that's what kind of girl, a tease. Ron doesn't know how to handle that kind of girl; he doesn't understand girls! He never realized that Tara had a crush on him for two years, and she was being obvious. I mean, I can't always be there to look after him, can I?"

James fought to conceal his smirk as his daughter's words poured out in an ever-increasing torrent. The rocket scientist noted that they contained the mixture of sympathy and frustration that both Bortel, and his own wife, had told him to expect. There was only one explanation for Kim's curious mixture of love and hate towards her lifelong friend, jealousy. Before the chip incident, an exotic, mystery girl had appeared and showered Ronald with attention. His Kimmie-cub had felt threatened by this girl's influence on Ronald.

"I see," he replied. "Well I might know why you were so preoccupied with Ronald, but I want to make sure there's no additional variables in all of this. Think for a moment, during that day, did you feel any sort of excessive anger before that evening?"

"Uhmmm, yes," Kim admitted, thinking about how she had overreacted to the Kimmunicator's loss. "I was angry that Ron had lost the Kimmunicator. I was a little irked at Drakken, but mainly I was mad at Ron."

"Okay. Now, doesn't that Rockwaller girl, Bonnie I believe, irritate you worse than Ronald does?" At his daughter's nod, he continued. "So why, when you got to school, when you were in one of those chip-induced foul moods, didn't you track her down and have it out?"

"I … I don't know. I mean everything was always a haze; it's hard for me to pluck out a thought about why I did anything during that time. Ron was just … he was just the cause of _'everything'_ in my mixed up mind, good or bad, right or wrong. The answer always added up to R-O-N, Ron."

Dr. Possible nodded his head solemnly; his _'Kimmie'_ was affirming exactly what was already suspected. "Bortel believed that you kept your attention on him, because he has assumed a very central role in your emotional life, especially when the chip became attached to you. So, when the chip was tuned to the 'anger' setting, and Drew's gizmo enhanced it even further, you actively sought out Ronald."

The male shifted himself deeper into the plush leather and stiffened his back, doing his best to ignore the startled and horrified features of his daughter at this revelation. He knew that her next question would be an explanation for what he had just said and he was mentally preparing himself to proceed into lecture-mode to accommodate his daughter's as yet unspoken follow-up questions. "Kimmie, Bortel and your mother agree that you didn't concentrate on Ronald because he was the first person you saw," James continued. "Bortel was able to pull a history log out of his controller, determining when the chips enhanced certain emotions. I've cross-checked these times with your classmates, trying to map out your day, if you will. The chip was set on anger while you were walking to school. Shortly after you arrived, but before your first class, the controller switched to love. According to Monique, who is now feeling a great deal of guilt, because she was finding your antics amusing at the time, you fixated your…attentions on Ronald. Now, not to insult Ronald but there are more…desirable… boys in the school yet, according to Monique, you ignored all of them to pursue Ronald. Furthermore, she says that there were times you were not physically with Ronald, but your infatuation did not waver. No matter the emotion, no matter the people present, you focused your attentions on Ronald."

"Daddy, what are you suggesting?" Kim asked, equal parts confused and…frightened to the implication of his words.

"Only that these feelings change and evolve, over time," James replied. His face showed equal parts resignation and sympathy. "Ronald isn't just your childhood friend anymore, Kimme. I don't know what he's become to you, or you to him, but I think you're going to have to figure that out before you try to make things right."

"Daddy, are you saying that I … I might be…somehow…in love with my best friend?"

"That's not a yes or no question. And it's certainly not a question someone other than yourself can truthfully answer with confidence." James sighed. "What I **am** saying, Kimmie-cub, is that adolescence is a very awkward and confusing time, it always has been. I'm no human development expert, but I know that the hormone surge, coupled with the societal uncertainty of being neither an adult nor a child, makes for a confusing time. You're changing from a girl to a young woman, so your perceptions of your world, and the people in it, have to change to account for this alteration. Now, if anybody asks me if you love Ronald, I'll say yes without hesitation or doubt. You have said, just now, that being separated from him was painful to you and that you want to reestablish your relationship with him. If that isn't love, I don't know what is. However, I don't know if you're looking at Ronald as a romantic interest. That's probably the most disturbing thing about Bortel's devices. It made your love for Ronald overriding, so that it included all aspects, including brotherly and romantic."

"Kimmie, look, you know your heart better than anyone, but when the controller switched to love, you had so much outside interference that even you didn't know where your affections for that boy really lay. You loved Ron, period, with no distinctions between best friend love, lifelong companion love, familial love or romantic love. Thanks to that cursed chip, love meant Ronald and only Ronald."

"Wait," Kim pleaded, waving one hand. "So you're saying that I always looked at Ron as….I don't know…a brother, and the chip sort of…generalized the affection? The chip, boosted by Drakken's meddling, my own competitiveness and my circumstances, perverted that 'brotherly' love and made it something else?"

"Possibly."

"Possibly?!? Possibly?!? What does that mean? Daddy, this is my life here. Am I now in love with Ron or not?"

"Like I said, this isn't a question with a yes or no answer. Launch vectors have definitive answers, thrust calculations have definitive answers, but emotional questions don't. All I know, what your mother and Bortel agree on, is that for a short time, you looked at Ronald differently than you had before. Since the first day you met him in that playground, the fact that he was a boy and you were a girl didn't mean anything to either of you. But when that chip exerted its influence; your genders became very significant. Significant on a biological, emotional and mental level. Even before Drew's meddling enhanced the chip's influence, when it switched back to anger, your foray into love made your emotions towards him all the stronger; you had given the chip more fuel to work with. Because you were infatuated with him, you had more to make you angry. He hadn't changed, he was the exact, same boy he had always been, and he dressed, ate and acted like he always had. The difference, Kimmie, was the way you perceived him. You said it yourself that you were looking at him differently after you met the Japanese girl. This complicated your previously simple relationship with Ronald. You felt … competitive and threatened by her influence with Ron. Suddenly, the chip becomes active and every bit of confusion and fear possessed by you towards Ron and this Asian girl is redefined and made simple and straightforward; when you loved him, you loved him with all your heart and when you hated him, you hated him with all your rage."

"So did the chip pervert your love for him? Maybe, if it destroys your friendship, then yes. If the two of you can deal with it, then no. Only you and he are going to be able to figure that out, Kimmie."

"Of course, this is all just theory," Dr. Possible concluded, once again wrapping an arm around his daughter. "Without you here to undergo a debriefing, we could only interview those who had witnessed your behavior at school that day. Mr. Steve Barkin, your Vice Principal, was surprisingly informative. It seems that Ron stopped by his house to vent some of his concerns, before coming here to pick you up. Apparently, Ronald voiced several concerns about what a real date could mean, and why you were acting the way you were. I don't know how long Ronald talked to the man, but Barkin claims that his hot bath was ice cold by the time Ron left."

"Does Ron … does he know that I … I might, I mean, I _could_ be in-love with him?"

Dr James Possible's hand found itself upon his daughter's. "Ron's understanding of the event was that your emotions that day were a result of Bortel's chip. In truth, he didn't need any further explanations towards the randomness of your behaviour as he seemed to recall a simular experience with one of Bortel's devices a year or so earlier in which Drew again stole something from his lab's safe. You could even say that it was a forerunner, technologically speaking, to the later one. A _'Mind Control'_ Chip that removes from the barer a resistance to do nothing but mindlessly comply with the controller's demands. Another ridiculously dangerous piece of experimentation for Science sake. At any rate, Ron recounted how both yourself and this Shego woman had chased him around Drew's jungle Lair with the instruction to '_Destroy Him'_. The fact that he was successful enough to avoid your efforts for as long as he said he had was impressive, the fact that he was able to evade both you and Ms Go working together in union was even more so. He said that if Jim and Tim hadn't helped disrupt and destroy these chips influence upon both of you when they did he doubts he would be alive today."

"So … he doesn't know about my … _feelings_ about him?"

"No. And your mother and I, as well as Cyrus have chosen to keep this theory of ours confidential from him. For no other reason than that was what it was, a _Theory_. After all, why complicate an issue that is already complicated enough. Ron's had his own problems."

Kim numbly nodded her head, allowing everything to sink in. "It … it was probably a good call on your part that he doesn't know. I mean … I mean if I don't know how I feel about him exactly, then it would be unfair to subject him to all this, wouldn't it?"

"That's what we thought too. Ron has always cared deeply for you, Kim. And we did not want to … _'taint'_ these feelings before you had the opportunity to confront them yourself."

Kim snuggled herself deeper into the fatherly embrace, her thoughts racing. After a moment she steadied her voice, knowing that she had to now address the other issues that drew her back to returning home.

"I can't go on knowing what I now know, Daddy. I have to do something. I have to speak to Ron, I have to repair or replace the friendship that was destroyed. I have to fix our families reputation and I have to help Wade. I can't sit back and do nothing, especially as everything is my fault. At the very least I must be an accessory to Wade's charge. If he goes to prison because of something I put him up to doing then … then … and if Ron …" Tears that had been successfully held in place for the past several minutes gave out and flowed easily down the pre-established tracks made earlier. Kim's father rubbed her back and allowed the moment to pass.

"Yes, big things have happened, Pumpkin. But we need to take little steps. The first of which is to seek out some Legal Advice and we won't be able to do that till morning. Jacob Green, our Family Lawyer, is well aware of everything that has transpired and is formidably aware of your relationship in the claims and alligations made. Tomorrow, at the start of business, I'll call him myself and advise him you have returned home. As a Legal Representative he will probably have to speak to you in person and go through the conditions of the Restraining Order implemented by the Stoppables and make sure you are aware *"

"*But I want the Restraining Order lifted. I need to see Ron; I need to speak to him, Daddy. For no other reason then to beg his forgiveness, even if I don't need too, I have to show him how sorry I truly am."

"I understand that, Sweetheart. But before that happens you will have to see Mr Green, and then Mrs Stayer."

"Mrs Stayer?"

"The Stoppable's Attorney. She is their … go-between for us. Any meeting that we wish to have with the Stoppables will have to have her present. But don't fret, Kimmie. It's not as daunting as it sounds; she is actually very supportive to both families. You and Ron had rescued her kitten, 'Socks', from a tree a few summer's back and she remembers the strong friendship the two of you shared. If anything she's deeply sympathetic to what has happened between both of our families. I'll try and see if it's possible for Jacob to arrange this meeting with just us and Mr Stoppable and Ron. I think Mrs Stoppable is still quite sensitive on the issues involved and I doubt her contributions will be constructive ones."

"Alright, daddy."

"Now why don't you get yourself to your room and get some sleep. I think you could use some. We'll discuss everything further tomorrow morning with your mother, alright?"

Kim nodded and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. When her face was clear of obstruction she couldn't help but offer her father a small and surprising smile, one that drew a curiosity from the elder.

"What's so funny, Kimmie-cub?"

"Nothing, it just occurred to me how _'Dr Phil'_ you've become. I don't think we've ever talked like that before, ever. Usually with emotions, feelings and boys you deflect it off to mom."

James own smile wavered briefly before he found the words to answer. "That's because I don't deal well with abstracts. But that's not your fault. From the moment you stopped being my little princess and started being a young lady, I didn't know how to relate to you. Not emotionally anyway. Getting you to talk about those things with your mother just seemed like a simple dodge, after all, what do I know about being a teenage girl? It took Child Protection to point out to me how shaky my own parenting approaches were. Your mother's shifts at the Hospital are sometimes long and unpredictable; mine at the Space Centre are a stable 8 to 5, Monday to Friday. If you have issues, no matter how uncomfortable I might be with them, I shouldn't say _'wait until your mother gets home'_. That's not fair to you, or her. I've had to look at myself in the mirror Kimmy, and I don't like the idea of you never being able to talk openly about any topic that crosses your mind. From this day on I want you to feel just as comfortable talking to me about fashion, love, boys and … sex as your mother. Okay?"

"Okay_, Phil, _but you can breathe easy on the last bit. I think I'm still a ways off with having the sex-talk with anyone."

Leaning in to kiss his daughter's cheek, the smile returned. "You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that, Kimmie-cub. And you have no idea how happy I am to have you home at last."

Kim Possible leaned in to the fatherly kiss and gently closed her eyes, basking in this comfortable, yet at the same time _uncomfortable_ moment. Her mind fighting every impulse within her to take pleasure in the sensation of knowing family-love once more. She tried hard to keep her features neutral as she stood up and took account of the eerie silence of the home that was always brimming with life and vitality. No doubt about it, things had indeed changed. And it had all been a result of her. Discretely she dug her fingernails into her upper-leg, the denim refusing to breach but still able to transfer the application of sharp pressure to her thigh. It was a sick ecstasy of remembrance to the pain she had caused others and it was one she took sad solace in now whenever she felt her heart lighten.

"I think I know the way to my room. It's still in the same place, right?"

Dr James Possible barked out a sudden and polite laugh and nodded as he also stood up from the leather sofa. His eyes travelling up and down his daughter, as if trying to memorize her new 'appearance' once more and convince himself that the pasty, thin brunette in front of him was actually the vibrant and perky redhead from memory. "Try and get some sleep, Honey. I know that it won't be easy, but a tired mind is a weak one. Tomorrow will take care of itself."

"Okay, daddy." With these two words, Kim turned and began the quiet march upstairs, pausing only briefly in front of Tim and Jim's bedroom and allowing herself to hear their light snores emanating from within. The carpeted stair's leading to her loft bedroom seemed such a long journey now. Her mind backtracking to the last memory she had of her room.

In her minds eyes she recalled a collection of dresses all scattered haphazardly upon the floor and bed, each one eagerly discarded as not being _'sexy'_ enough to easily claim Ron's attention during their date. But in the back of her closet, hidden away from prying and tweebish eyes, was the dress she eventually had chosen for herself that evening. One that prior to that night she had never been able to screw up the courage to wear out in public. It was a sleek, short and tight black number that Monique had bought for her as a joke using her Employee discount at Club Banana. The two had earlier gotten into one of their fashion-discussion over how every girl should have themselves a _'CFM'_ Dress. The discussion had Kim in opposition and Monique in approval. As most of their fashion discussion's ended, Monique claimed that she was in the right and to show that she was not a poor winner purchased the 'said _CFM_ Dress' later that evening for her best-friend.

With trepidation, Kim entered her room. The chaos of discarded garments was no more. The bed was made with perfect hospital cornering upon the sheets; her make-up case was packed up and placed on her shelf. Her stuffed toys sitting happily along the ledge of her window. The room was not as she left it several weeks earlier and she had the unbearable sensation that even though the room had been unoccupied since then that her mother still entered and regularly vacuumed and re-did the sheets as a matter of habit.

Slowly Kim began to strip out of her street clothes and pulled out her PJ's from the top draw of her built-in cabinet. The flannel top and bottom hung loosely upon her frame, fresh evidence to the already understood reality of how much weight she had allowed herself to lose since last she had been in Middleton.

Kim turned off the light and gingerly slid under the crisp sheets of a bed that had once bought her instant comfort. Usually she would permit herself to surrender to sleep within minutes of head touching the pillow, but despite her promises to her father she discovered her mind refusing to co-operate to the notion of slumber. Sleep of late never came easy to her anymore, and often when it did she was visited by the same collection of nightmare images over and over again. But tonight was different in that she could not detach herself from the suggestion that she was harbouring deep and unconscious thoughts that Ron was maybe more then just a friend to her and that her jealousy for him had inspired her lust/hostile attitudes that fateful day and night.

Secretly she had always wondered if romance could spring from their friendship but she always dismissed this thought as she never looked upon Ron as an '_attractive_' figure. He wasn't hideous or offensive by any means, but then again he wasn't exactly Josh Mankey either. Ron had good points just as he had bad ones. But he hardly fitted into the idolized mould she thought her true love would assume. As the hours ticked by the more she thought of Ron and the topic of 'Love'. And with each passing second the more she found herself no longer being offended that such a possibility would be impossible or unwanted.

As one a.m. chimed on her cheapo-digital watch she found herself sitting upright in her bed. Sleep no closer to claiming her then it was 4-hours earlier. Her clean sheets, warm blanket's and private mattress that had only been slept in by one person – her, surrounding her. Her much loved Panda-roo held tightly to her chest. The last clear memory she had of holding this plush-toy had been a couple months earlier and at the time she was squealing with artificially enhanced excitement and joy about her impending date with Ron. It now felt like a lifetime ago.

The fresh memory of this errant moment in time compelled her to walk to her window and gaze out across the intervening front yards towards his house. How many times had they spoken to each other on the phone while standing at their windows? Sure, the distance was great enough that they would both only see vague silhouettes of the other, but it gave them an even greater sense of connection then just hearing the other's voice. A single tear slid down her cheek, prompted by the single prominent thought that in a house over there, on the other side of her window was his own. She could see his room shining in the darkness, like a Syrian's song calling out to her. Her bestest friend in the whole wide world, most likely asleep, and still believing that she was still gone, maybe forever.

Somehow, something seemed significant about that thought. It wasn't the fact that Ron still believed that she was still missing, her conversation with her father had hammered that truth home. It wasn't that Ron was probably sleeping or the fact that his house was home to an understandably … hostile … Mrs Stoppable. No, there was something else, something that was all but staring her in the face and she could not see it. Suddenly, she realised what she was looking at.

Ron's window!

She could see Ron's window! His bedroom light was still on! Finally, a sense of her old determination to do the right thing and damn the consequences filled her once again. Ron thought that she was gone? Well, not for very much longer.

Unfastening the latches of her window and quietly opening her room up to the night she heard the voice of her father echo in the recess of her brain. The voice was firm and caring and it offered her warnings towards what decision she had just made.

But nostalgia consumed reason and rational forethought. There was nothing that she and Ron couldn't talk through with the other; they didn't need lawyers or Court Approval. They had been best friends since Pre-K, they had faced danger's and life threatening situations where the only guarantee they had towards their survival was the knowledge that the other would never let them down. In her trembling heart she knew that if she could explain herself to Ron in the same manner her father had explained things to her this evening that half of the weight she felt upon her would be lifted free.

As her gaze focused and her eyes adjusted to the darken night. She plotted out her coarse, recalling easily from habit and old happy memories of the times she had slipped out of her window, scampered across intervening yards, climbed that old ash tree in the Stoppable's backyard and tapped on Ron's window. How many times had the two of them talked into the wee hours of the morning on no subject, but had just talked to one another just for the sake of the conversation alone. Both speaking in hushed whispers to ensure his parents were none the wiser to their nocturnal activity.

Her mind made clear of what she intended to do, and moving with more decisiveness then any other action she had preformed this night, Kim pulled on a light jacket over her pink flannel pyjama's and slowly, quietly left the safety of her bedroom.

_**/////**_

_**\\\\\**_

_A/N: Well, it looks like Kim is preparing to face her demon regardless of what her father and the Law states. Who wants to guess that things will not go as easily as she thinks they will???_

_For the sake of this story, 'Gorilla Fist' preceded 'Emotion Sickness' by a couple of days._

_As always, Daccu65, ROCKS!!!! And he Rocks Hard!!!! Beta and Muse extraordinaire____._

_Alright people, time to review and let me know your thoughts towards this humble tale._


	3. Chapter 3

She thrilled at the sound of the grass, which had enjoyed the recent attentions of her upper-middleclass neighbors' automatic sprinklers, squelching with each footfall. Somehow, the streetlights seemed dimmer than they were in her memory but she didn't care. Thoughts of previous nocturnal visits were at the forefront of her every step and spring as she crossed the fences and yards that stood between her and her goal.

How many times had she made this same nighttime journey in years past? Hundreds? Thousands, maybe? She didn't know and, at the moment, she didn't really care. It seemed strange to her that this nighttime jaunt was more of a homecoming than sitting in her own den or lying curled up in her own bed. Every warm, pleasant memory she had recently suppressed had Ron assuming a significant role in the center. She wouldn't really be _home_ until she saw him again.

Even though it had been months, her feet found the familiar bumps and divots of lawns and private, gravelled footpaths. With each step, she regretted not putting her sneakers on before exiting her window. Not only were her feet becoming cold and wet, they seemed ready to twist whenever her bare feet returned to earth after she leapt over each fence. Still, there was no way she was going to turn around now, and delay the upcoming meeting.

Shortly after slipping out of her window, she considered simply jogging down the sidewalk but tossed that idea aside. While everyone in the neighborhood was probably asleep, 'probably' didn't mean certainly. All it would take was one insomniac to peer out their window at the wrong time, someone who knew about the restraining order and calling the police to really put Mrs. Stoppable in a righteous fury. Of course, traveling through the backyards incurred the same risk, although the probability was much lower. Unlike the sidewalks alongside the street, backyards weren't lit by overhead streetlights. She suspected that, in the past the neighbors whose properties separated the Possible's and Stoppable's, knew about and approved of her nighttime jaunts. After all, neither hers nor Ron's parents had ever questioned them about mysterious trails through the dew-dampened grass. Unfortunately, as her father told her earlier, times had changed. The Possible Children's antics, once tolerated with amusement, were no longer acceptable. With each vault over a fence, she was trespassing on another property so she had to be mindful of her progress, taking care to make no noise that might arouse the neighbourhood.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, filled with the familiar adrenaline that came during any intense or particularly dangerous mission. But this was to her the most important mission of her life, to make things right with her lifelong companion before the authorities had a chance to force them apart. Her expression, had anyone been present to observe it, betrayed a woman confronting her own fears and insecurities. She, of course, didn't consider this. Her entire being was focused upon one purpose; to confront Ron and find out what she needed to do to rescue their damaged friendship. She didn't care if he demanded a public apology, recognition for his contributions or the chance to call the shots during an upcoming mission. This single goal consumed her every action as she vaulted the fences separating the backyards. She refused, for the moment, to consider the precious possibility that there could be…something more than friendship…at stake. She couldn't think about this potential future right now, as much as it was starting to appeal to her. She had to reestablish their friendship. If she were to fail in this quest, if Ron were unable to forgive her, his rejection would destroy her. She would be broken in a manner that would make the past two months look like birthday party.

Vaulting over the final fence (with a slight stumble on the way over, she was definitely out of shape) her feet landed on 'Stoppable turf'. Suddenly, she stopped, becoming aware of how cold her bare, muddy feet had become. She felt like a 4-year old standing in front of a haunted house, wishing desperately to prove to everyone how brave she was, yet at the same time conscious of the fear that was claiming both her heart and mind.

The night, to her, was still and quiet; maybe too quiet. Kim felt her recently re-awakened confidence overwhelmed by a sudden burst of paranoia. While she had never been all that much in tune with the natural world, she knew that silence wasn't a normal sitch, even at night. She should have been able to hear some crickets and other insects, maybe even the sound of the odd backyard dog, but there was nothing. In addition, she had the creepy feeling that someone, somewhere, was watching her. Kim dropped into a defensive stance, remaining perfectly still as she scanned the Stoppables' backyard, looking for anything that might be either a threat or out of place. Again, the light seemed dimmer than she remembered; either she was adding illumination in her treasured memory of past visitations or the last two months' poor diet had affected her night vision. She would have to ask her mother about that in the morning.

After a full minute in her guarded stance, she told herself that her sudden burst of anxiety was due to nerves. Her careful scan of the backyard had revealed nothing out of place. As for the normal, nighttime sounds, a slightly out-of-shape former redhead had just vaulted over a fence. In her logical-pondering this would explain why the crickets and other night creatures had gone silent. Slowly, she rose out of her crouch, allowing her hands to drop. More relaxed, she gave the backyard a more casual inspection.

Looking up at the house's second story, she picked out Mr. and Mrs. Stoppable's window. With some relief, she noted that the lights were out in that room. Like almost everyone else on the street, the two adults in the house were probably peacefully sleeping in their bed. This little bit of knowledge should have reassured her about the covertness of her nighttime maneuvers but instead she felt decidedly 'crappy'. For all her reputation as a bit of a maverick adventurer, she didn't sidestep authority lightly. She certainly understood why Ron's 'rents didn't want her within 100 yards of their son and, by extension, them. If roles were reversed and she had a child…heck, if someone had even inflicted the same beating she did on one of the tweebs that she inflicted on Ron, that assailant would have to enter some sort of witness protection program to escape her wrath. Even then, she would dig up more favors she had ever been owed and call them all in to find the crook and unleash her revenge.

The beating she had given Ron would have been bad enough but the discovery of the locator-chip had to have made a troubling situation so much worse for the Stoppable adults. How could she have been so stupid and insensitive? Of course she knew that most of Mrs. Stoppable's family had met a grizzly end at the hands of the Nazis. She had even met Ron's Great Aunt Anne, who wore the tattoo on her forearm with a mixture of both pride and deep sadness. '_Auntie Anne'_, who Ron confessed he revered more than nearly anyone else in his family. Anne, who had endured atrocities and horrors and had come out more spiritually stronger than anyone else he knew.

As good and as noble as her intentions been when she urged Wade to plant the locator-chip in Ron, looking back now she should have known better. Her experience with the world's technology-obsessed villains should have made her realize that this secret chip would someday become un-secret. How could the Stoppables have interpreted it as anything other than the invasion her father had described? She had 'tagged' Ron like he was her private and personal property, like he was her pet, her personal lapdog. In their eyes she had breached the greatest trust one could place on the other – respect. She had offered Ron her own unique form of 'branding and tattooing' making him her personal possession, a piece of property, one she could keep track of without any consideration towards Ron's feelings on the issue.

Yes, she had a lot to atone and make up for. She loved and cared for both Mr. and Mrs. Stoppable, they were as much her second parents as her own 'rents were to Ron. That they were thinking of such a low opinion of her was like a repeating sucker punch to her gut. When all the babysitters in Middleton had refused to watch her and her twin infant brothers, having learned of her 'spirited' ways, it was the Stoppables who volunteered to take them in. This allowed her 'rents to have the occasional romantic, kid-free night out. They were the only ones in town who could successfully manage her and her brothers' excessive behavior.

Mr. Stoppable was always like a cuddly teddy bear who, unlike her own father (before he started channeling Dr. Phil) was someone she could easily talk too. Sure, the topics never stretched towards boys, fashion and make-up but he was always willing to give her his honest opinion and treat her like an adult. He also didn't bother sugar-coating things for her benefit. When she was six and asked her parents about what 'Evolution' meant, he was the only adult who laid it out for her straight and informed her of a scientist called Charles Darwin. What was more, Mr. Stoppable had been willing to discuss the scientific vs. religious implications. Mr. Stoppable also had the utmost confidence in her and her abilities and always thought that she was a positive influence on Ron and his easily distractible ways.

Mrs. Stoppable was much the same, if less of the 'cuddly teddy bear'. She was more like a Mother-Hen. She was always the voice of reason to the duo, the realist to her husband's dreamer-status. But like Mr Stoppable, Mrs Stoppable always treated her with respect that belied the red-haired teen her actual age. Kim knew that her own parents only begrudgingly supported her various missions because Ron was always by her side to provide her with backup and support, and they knew that Ron would never let her do anything that would put her in any danger. She also knew that the Stoppables only allowed Ron to go on these missions because they knew she was both capable and trustworthy to see to their only child's life and safety. Now, however, Ron had nearly been taken from them; and not by some insane super-villain but by her!

Maybe if she hadn't spent two months in 'Limbo' and had confronted what she had done, things would be better for everyone involved. But it was now too late for 'could have beens', she had worked hard to deny who she was as she hid from her crime against the boy who had always supported her. Now, if the Stoppables ending up hating her until their dying day, she would understand and accept their rage and feel it deserving. If this turned out to be the case, she would shoulder the burden for the rest of her life without a single gripe or complaint, unless, of course if Ron was to hate her, as well. If Ron shared in their hatred, as far as she was concerned, the universe would have proven itself to be a cruel and heartless place to exist in and she would shout such claims to both the heavens above and to everyone with ears to hear. If Ron were to hate her, if he was to despise her, if he was to never forgive her … then as far as she was concerned her life would be over.

With a shake of her head she tried to suppress her insecurities. She knew that a positive outlook went a long way towards producing a positive outcome, so she couldn't wallow. Still feeling a little uneasy, she padded away from the fence, towards that old, sturdy ash tree, with the convenient branches near his window. How many times had that old tree accepted their weight, without complaint, when they 'broke curfew' to visit each other? Too many to recall, that was for certain.

Still fighting the feeling that someone was watching her, she reached the sturdy trunk. Eagerly, her hands slid up the trunk and towards the lower branches, seeking familiar handholds as her eyes sought Ron's bedroom window. The soft illumination pouring out quickened her heart and made her mouth dry with anticipation. Ron was mere feet away and still awake. The next five minutes would either see her take the first of several long, painful steps towards repairing her friendship and maybe forging something more, or confirm that she had destroyed something beautiful. With her hands on the lower branch, she prepared to half-lift herself and half-spring onto the branch, which would put her in position to hop up to the next appendage. In that tense moment between commitment and action, a flicker of motion offered her peripheral vision a distraction, followed a mere moment later was an unexpected pain.

Before she could react the former redhead found both her arms painfully pinned behind her back. A sharp kick behind her knees dropped her like a rag doll, onto the damp earth. One of the unseen hands released her arm but before she could take advantage of her partial release, that same hand grabbed the back of her head and forced her face into the wet grass. Kim had only a scant moment to run through a kaleidoscope of emotions: Anger at herself for not heeding her earlier suspicions, shame at being overwhelmed so quickly and fear for her helpless condition.

"Your life is mine, trespasser," a soft, yet vindictive voice flowed and trickled into her ear. "I can let you keep it or I can take if from you. What I decide depends upon your actions this moment. I will release you shortly, if you agree to leave immediately and never return, then your life shall be spared, I will give you this supreme gift. *But* if you resist or return, I shall take your life, a life which is now mine to do with as I will, away from you. Do you understand?"

Kim spat out grass and soil. Her unknown assailant certainly had a 'shoot first and ask questions later' approach to things, whoever it was. While a reasonable person wouldn't hesitate to comply with the (admittedly reasonable) demands this shadow-aggressor had made, Kim wasn't feeling very reasonable at the moment. All she could see was a person standing between her and her goal of making amends with the person more valuable to her than her own life. What were pain, humiliation and threats to lifelong friendship? Somewhere deep inside the faux brunette, Kim felt her 'fire' return. Feeling the will to fight through any obstacle to get to Ron's room surge through her veins, she grasped the earth with her free hand and twisted slightly off of the ground, a sure sign of defiance.

"There is only one person in the world that has the right to say who may and may not visit him," Kim declared. "And you're not him. If he wants me to leave his home forever, I'll do it. It will tear me up inside and break my heart, but I'll do it. I have a debt to pay and nobody, not you, his parents, my parents or even the law itself will keep me from trying to do it. So if you want the two of us to get down and dirty and do some real damage to each other, just keep getting yourself in my way, because I'm so not stopping until I see him. Do YOU understand?"

Kim punctuated this little declaration of hostilities by flipping the rest of the way onto her back. This rapid spin, although it cost her some pain, broke her assailant's grip. Kim could now see her assailant, a vague, darker blot that didn't quite blend with the backyard's shadows. Somehow, this black-swathed figure gave the impression of relaxing as it glided two paces back from the downed heroine. Slowly, the mysterious shadow removed the covering from its head. With the moon hanging low and pregnant behind the mysterious figure, Kim could make out long and lush hair, freed from its confinement, fall upon the stranger's shoulders. It was then that Kim finally noticed the attacker's distinct, feminine frame. This wasn't some private guard hired by the Stoppables to patrol their grounds and keep 'crazies' from acting out some twisted form of justice ala the cruel 'Get Well Cards' her father said Ron received while he was recuperating in hospital. No, this was someone else entirely and Kim suspected that she knew this person. With the mystery girl's next words, Kim lost all doubt about her identity.

"Possible-san? Please accept my humble apologies but I did not recognize who you were until you spoke. I beg you to please forgive my abruptness and hostilities, but you look so … different from last we met that I thought you an intruder."

For whatever reason, Kim really doubted the Asian's claims, even though her own father earlier that night had said the same things, even with the benefit of a well lightened lounge room. Still, she wasn't about to reveal her suspicions or offer the other any thought of lenience at this moment. Instead, she used her PJ's cuff to wipe stray grass and dirt from her face, never breaking eye contact with her assailant.

Kim slowly stood up, pointedly ignoring the ninja's offered hand, as she returned to her feet. Kim stood very close to the other girl, emphasizing the slight height advantage she had over her Asian…rival? She was now trying to exploit her larger size, trying to look more impressive in stature to the female ninja. Well, she was looking as impressive as she could, considering she had dirt on her face, muddy feet and was wearing grass stained, pink flannel PJs with white, puffy clouds.

Trying to steal the advantage of the silence that now seemed to exist between the two females, Kim bit out a demand. "What are you doing here, Yori?"

Yori looked quizzically upon the former redhead for a moment but quickly regained her composure to that of serene grace and manners offering a small bow to the other female before she allowed words to leave her mouth. "My apologies, Possible-san, but is this not a question for me to be asking you? It is my understanding that you, as well as your family, are neither permitted any contact with the Stoppables nor are you allowed to approach within one hundred paces of their persons. Please do not misunderstand me; I am indeed relieved to know that you are safe and well, Stoppable-san has voiced many concerns towards your whereabouts and wellbeing, but are you not breaking your state's laws simply by being where you now are?"

Kim avoided looking at the young oriental as she patted herself down, trying to make herself look a little less disheveled next to the crisp, clean and composed Yori. "I know about the restraining order," she informed the other girl under her breath with an almost growling tone. "But until a court-appointed representative officially notifies me about it, which will most likely be tomorrow morning, I'm in what can probably be called a 'legal-grey' area. Until I am officially informed of the restrictions placed upon me and any communications with Ron and his fam, I can approach him without violating any laws." She smirked at the mysterious, lithe ninja. "In short, I have a chance to talk to him, to try to fix what I've broken, officially ignorant under the eyes of the law, at least for a short time."

Yori shook her head in wonder, surprise and disgust. "Your attitude is most curious," she declared. "It seems most odd that one who claims to uphold this law is so willing to defy it when it is not convenient. While it may be true that you have yet to receive official notification, you do know of this ruling, do you not? Doesn't your own honor demand that you abide, or do you view honor as a shirt, to be donned and discard at your whim?"

"Right and legal aren't always the same thing," Kim countered. "For your information, there have been plenty of times I've gone into a villain's lair when it wasn't the legal thing to do, but the world would be a much sadder place if I hadn't." Tired of being on the defensive, Kim decided to seize the initiative and press her earlier question. "And you still haven't answered me, what are you doing here? The last I saw of you, you were hopping on a helicopter, with your Master Sensei, on your way back to your ninja school in Japan."

Yori bowed respectfully once more, conceding the American's point. "Hai … I mean yes, Possible-san. We returned to Yamanouchi but shortly thereafter, Master Sensei detected something greatly amiss with Stoppable-san's chi-essence. Immediately, he tried to project himself into Stoppable-san's dreams, but was unsuccessful, finding only pitch-darkness residing in his mind. Concerned, he dispatched one of the school's American based agents to inquire into Stoppable-san's status and from this enquiry he discovered him to be gravely injured and in the Middleton Medical Center. The Master was deeply worried for the Chosen One's safety, as Lord Monkey Fist has voiced his intention towards claiming Stoppable-san's title of Ultimate Monkey Master on many occasions. Fearing that Monkey Fist might take advantage of Stoppable-san's incapacitated state; Master Sensei assigned bodyguards to maintain Stoppable-san's safety."

Despite Kim's own 'green' feelings towards Yori, she had to admit that she felt a certain amount at relief at hearing this. She had witnessed Yori's skills during the Gorilla Fist Adventure and she had to admit that the Asian female's abilities in a fight were easily on par with her own. She had also seen Hirotaka skilfully maneuver around Brick's brutish efforts last year, when Ron was in Japan. If both these students possessed the average caliber of Yamanouchi abilities, the adults, who had spent even more time honing their skills, must be even more capable. For good or bad, Ron had certainly been in safe hands during his hospital stay.

"… Whilst he was in the hospital, many of our agents, disguising themselves as various employees, maintained a vigil. When his physicians released him, the honor of protecting Stoppable-san fell to me."

This declaration caught Kim by surprise. She was expecting a team of rotating Ninjas, not one and certainly not...HER...to watch over Ron. "You? Of all the people in your little ninja school, why you? Why didn't your Sensei send one or more of the operatives who had watched him during his hospital stay? What made you the pick of the bunch?" Kim couldn't keep the edge out of her voice. She didn't dare hope that some of the rage she had felt for Ron the day she attacked him had been prompted by the jealousy she harbored for this mysterious, female ninja and the obviously close friendship Ron shared with her. But now, standing in front of her rival, hearing that she had been serving a very nurturing and protective role over the boy she had only now accepted the possibility she had strong feelings for, well, she felt as though the universe was playing some cruel joke upon her.

"Master Sensei assigned me this mission based upon the simple fact that I have had the most cordial contact with Stoppable-san prior to this recent event above all others associated with the school." Yori answered, ignoring Kim's harsh tone, at least for the moment. "He decided that my familiarity and…close friendship…with Stoppable-san would leave the Chosen One more at ease in my presence than with more experienced agents. This was why Master Sensei chose me, Possible-san, over the many other worthy volunteers. I confess that I pled my case most eloquently, but my…trump card…as you Americans say was presenting to Master Sensei the fact that I am the same age as Stoppable-san. This gives me the ability, in the guise of an escort; to accompany him out in casual or social situations. Since many of his friends and other acquaintances at Middleton High School observed me interacting with him prior to us leaving on our quest to rescue Master Sensei from Gorilla Fist, my presence with him will be even more plausible and not suspect."

Kim's emerald eyes grew in size as the meaning of the Asian beauty's words became apparent to her. "Hang on, escort? Escort, as in 'date'?"

Yori offered another polite and respectful bow. "Yes, Possible-san, but to be honest, as of present such a situation has not presented itself. Since returning from the hospital, Stoppable-san has yet to leave his home, with the exception of attending classes."

Kim began rubbing her temples with the tips of her fingers, doing her best to not loose control of the volume and tone of her voice. "Classes? What are you talking about? My father said he was just released from the medical center only three weeks ago. How can he be attending classes so soon after sustaining the injuries that I…that he received? He should be in some respite care, not wandering the hallways of Middleton High!?!"

"You neglect to acknowledge, Possible-san, that Stoppable-san is the Chosen One and, as such, he has absorbed into his person the very purest energies of the Mystical Monkey Power," Yori replied, speaking calmly in contrast to the heroine's frantic inquiries. "Since that fateful day two-years ago in Lord Montgomery Fiske's family castle, Stoppable-san's body has been able to repair itself at a rate two to four times quicker than that of a normal human. Now that he is away from the hospital's modern sciences, which hindered his mystic strength and self-repair, he has been able to focus more upon his healing meditations. As for returning to classes, well, that was Stoppable-san's decision. But you are not alone in expressing this opinion that he should not return to his studies until he was fully recuperated. His parents and several others, including a very abrasive person he referred to as 'Mr. B', tried valiantly to dissuade him, but Stoppable-san did not relent. He said that by remaining holed up in his room it would be like hiding and therefore would equate to a confession that he was indeed guilty of what your country's media had accused him of doing. By attending school as soon as his body would support the effort, he was humbly attempting to stand tall against the rumors that were spreading through the corridors."

Kim shook her head angrily against what she was hearing, her dyed brunette hair flicking back and forth in the moonlight. "Someone should still have stopped him! Why didn't anyone stop him?!?"

"I wish it would have been that easy, Possible-san. Not even I could talk him out of it. Stoppable-san was adamant, Possible-san. I even volunteered to attend classes with him, to watch over exchanges with other students and intervene if there was trouble but he denied me this honor. He said that he had to do this on his own and the sooner he faced down the 'rumor-mongers' and proved that he was innocent of all the fictitious claims against him, the sooner he could move on with his life. Though it pained me greatly to step aside and let him be subjected to what he called 'the food chain', I chose to be more a friend than a bodyguard and had to have faith that his accelerated healing would allow him to endure whatever he would face there alone."

Kim could now barely contain herself. If what she had been told was true then for three weeks Ron had been subjected to cold shoulders and isolation. She knew how Middleton High worked and more often than not the truth always took the backseat to juicy gossip and it rarely ever favored an 'outcast' over a popular kid. As far as she saw it, Ron wasn't just 'thrown' to the wolves, he was allowed to walk happily into their den and nobody did anything to stop him. If him wanting to go back to classes didn't inspire the notion in someone that Ron had developed a death wish, then she didn't know what would. All she knew was that at that second in time, she was full of anger at everybody who didn't put their foot down on his decision hard enough.

Since she was standing right in front of her, her greatest resentment centered upon the girl who had accepted the role of Ron's guardian and she had no hesitation in not making this resentment known. "Rapid healing? What ninja nonsense are you talking about, Yori? I can understand the old man and the rest of your prehistoric school believing him to be some Mystical Monkey Master. You guys spend your lives living out re-runs of 'The Samurai' every second of the day. Sure, I've seen him do some pretty impressive fighting moves when battling Monkey Fist or his monkey minions, but even then I have never seen him do anything that can't be explained by dumb luck or good fortune. I expected better of you, Yori. I thought you were a lot smarter than that. When we were out to rescue your master, you made use of computers, aircraft, and the rest of what the real world offers. Yet here you stand, spouting mystic nonsense! Ron doesn't have rapid healing any more than he has metallic claws hidden away in his forearms, ready to sprout out and dice his enemies at will. You should have known enough to listen to the medical experts and demand that he stay home!"

For the first time since their 'civil' exchange began, Kim could feel a chill radiate from her female rival. As she watched, the Asian's features stiffened at the insults heaped upon her very honor. In one breath, Kim had insulted Yori's way of life, her culture, her beliefs, her Master Sensei and had also insulted her own best friend. She had stepped over a line that should not have been crossed and it was only as she had finished speaking and 'heard' in her head exactly what she had said that she realized her error and knew that any apology would be inadequate.

Fighting off every aspect of appearing inhospitable, Yori addressed the other female, but it was clear from the fresh stance she had just assumed that her posture had become more offensive and challenging to the former redhead. "If you believe there is nothing 'special' about Stoppable-san then you are indeed a fool, Possible-san. Stoppable-san has maintained a soul of purest quality, and acceptance to all, even in a cynical world where he has been confronted by evils of all shapes, sizes and degrees. From the bullying and harassment he endured at an early age, to the unimaginable threats he has faced while sharing adventures with you, to the grand destiny he repeatedly tries to deny, he has remained the same gentle soul you know today. If you cannot perceive the same worthiness that my Master and I do, then by what right can you call him a friend? Not special? Ha! You do yourself a disservice, Possible-san, and you tarnish the very friendship you purport to cherish with your ignorance of its true meaning."

Kim held up both hands in an effort to pacify the (rightfully) angered ninja. "That's not what I meant," she pled, trying to apologize for her hasty, ill-advised words. The absolute last thing she wanted to do was to get into an actual full on throw down with the Ninja. Two-months ago, she judged their skills to be equal, in fact she considered Yori's abilities to surpass that of even Shego. When she observed the ninja do battle with the mutated gorillas during the Gorilla Fist adventure, the Asian did every move effortlessly and with a dancer's grace. Kim had doubts that back then, Yori would certainly have given her a run for her money. But now? If the two were to throw down now, given her two-month's of living off fast food (when she could get it) and inactivity, Kim had no doubt she would get creamed.

"Listen, Ron is special! He's special to me, but I don't believe he's special to anyone else. I don't believe he can heal faster than anyone else or that he has any special and wacky powers, I'm sorry, but I just can't wrap my head around it."

"This from the same girl who witnessed, first hand, Master Sensei floating over a cliff." Yori almost sneered. "Your beating would have killed a normal person, Possible-san. If you doubt this, have your mother track down the paramedics who transported him to the hospital and review the records and comments they made. They considered it a miracle that he survived long enough to reach the Emergency Room. His survival, Possible-san, was not 'dumb luck'. It was the Mystical Monkey Power manifesting itself to keep the Chosen One alive. Even so, he hovered on the razor's edge between life and death for several days. If you had witnessed his appearance after your mother performed her own miracle, rather than fleeing like a coward, you would have purchased lilies in preparation for his funeral.

"While you claim one thing, your actions betray your true self, Possible-san. You are foolish, insensitive and, at your core, cowardly. If the roles were reversed, and Stoppable-san had been guilty of an attack against you, then you know in your heart that he would never have left your side, even when threatened with imprisonment. He would never have fled. He would have faced his responsibilities and accepted punishment like a true man. I know this because during his visit to Japan a year ago, Monkey Fist stole our Holy Blade. Master Sensei gave Stoppable-san the opportunity to leave the school and deny his destiny, leaving the Lotus Blade's retrieval to those with more physical skill. When Stoppable-san learned that I was in peril, admittedly due to my own independent and foolish efforts to reclaim the blade, he refused. Despite all of his self-doubts and personal fears, he proved to the entire school that a TRUE HERO is not measured in that person's abilities and strength, but rather in their courage and heart. On that day, Possible-san, Stoppable-san revealed himself lacking in neither heart nor courage. For the briefest of moments, when he was facing Monkey Fist and the 'Disgraced-One' who had betrayed our school, he tapped into a raw fragment of the Power that now resided deep in him and even made a believer out of himself. It was both awe-inspiring and terrifying to behold. Gravity defied itself and the icy air that surrounded him seemed to turn to flames. The sounds of a thousand screeching monkeys echoed down the mountainside and he moved as though the world that surrounded him was held suspended in slow motion. In the eyes of many who had earlier doubted him and his right to the title as Ultimate Monkey Master, Possible-san, he rose up. Rose up in front of them and proved himself not only to be the one spoken of in ancient prophecy but also a mighty and honorable warrior in his own right."

"Yes, well maybe that might be so, but I have never once witnessed any screeching monkeys or 'burning air' whenever Ron and I go on missions. He…*"

"I ask you, Possible-san; have you ever seen Stoppable-san unclothed?"

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Kim snapped, shamed and enraged by the verbal lashing she had just taken and now confused by the sudden question.

"A simple inquiry, Possible-san. Have you ever seen your best friend, naked?"

"Ron and I aren't that way," Kim protested.

"Ah yes, the differences between American and Japanese norms," Yori mused, momentarily calmed by the intellectual exercise and forgetting her ire at the former redhead. "In Japanese society, the kiss I placed upon Stoppable-san's cheek would have been considered very bold, but it is judged inconsequential in the U.S. society A teenaged girl viewing an unclothed, teenaged boy is much less taboo in Japan than in the U.S. Bathhouses are common and nakedness is not typically associated with 'sex' alone. Still, my question remains unanswered, have you recently viewed Stoppable-san unclothed body?"

Kim's emerald eyes cast downwards, shamefully scanning the dark lawn at her feet. "We changed bodies a couple of years ago," Kim admitted meekly. "I didn't try to check him out but…well…hygiene and certain bodily functions forced me to…"

The Asian held up her hand to keep Kim's rambles out of embarrassing territories. It was clear to Yori that Kim had missed the purpose of her enquiry. "My apologies, Possible-san, I meant, have you seen him unclothed since he acquired the Mystical Monkey Power? I believe that adventure was a month after the time you exchanged minds."

For a moment, Kim stood stunned, needing a moment to gather her thoughts. Yori was right, they first met Lord Monty Fiske, acclaimed amateur archaeologist, four weeks after Drakken's Mind-Swap debacle.

"No," Kim shook her head. "I mean, I've seen him in shorts and a tee a few times and occasionally in his boxers when his pants get lose and fall down, but I've never seen him in his birthday suit."

"I do not know of this 'Birthday Suit' of which you speak, but I believe you." Yori's eyes gently closed as she released a sad sigh into the night. "This is a shame, for if you had, you would have seen his many scars. Have you never wondered why he wears long-sleeve hockey jerseys and long pants during the height of summer?"

Any anger Kim held in reserve for the ninja suddenly evaporated. "W…what do you mean? What scars are you talking about?"

"His injuries, Possible-san, are many and varied in nature. From deep cuts inflicted by katana wielding chimps to electrical burns from his trying to deactivate or sabotage doomsday devices, Stoppable-san's body is a landscape of injuries that he never complains about. After your missions, he would put on a false face for your benefit then drag himself off to bed and allow the Mystical Monkey Power to do its work, knitting him together for the next round of abuse. When he was at our school in Japan, he attended a class to hone his ability to consciously focus his power on specific injuries. During the class, Stoppable-san had to get in touch with all aspects of his body physicality, this required him to disrobe down to the barest of necessities and to meditate deeply and participate in breathing practices that would enhance his chi in key areas. As one of his student-instructors during his week at the school, I observed first hand the number of injuries he had sustained prior to him being able to successfully control his healing process."

Kim wanted to vomit. The thought that this … this 'person' had seen Ron right down to his altogether both repelled and angered her. Added to this was the unwilling picture of Ron, locked in a deep, unaware meditative state while Yori crept near to inspect him. Yet, as repulsed and angry as she felt, she couldn't shake off the allegations and the claims she had just heard. She had to respond, but suddenly she wasn't feeling all that confident. "I … I don't believe you. Electrical burns? He … he wore gloves."

Yori nodded, now looking serenely up to the lightened window. All previous elements of displeasure towards the former heroine seemed effortlessly forgotten. "Yes, Possible-san, thin, leather gloves, intended to protect his hands against abrasion. Still, he focused the Mystical Monkey Power upon his hands, as well as his forearms and lower legs, so that they would not scar and arouse your suspicions. This has, however, left his midsection and torso more or less unaffected. His control over his powers is still quite limited, so he must be very selective to where he focuses its influences. For your sake, he chooses to focus on his body's more visible areas."

"Over and over, you engaged your primary adversaries while sending him to dismantle or disrupt highly advanced electrical and mechanical doomsday devices. Some of these devices, especially those created by foes like Drakken and Dementor, generated extremely powerful electric fields. I am certain that at the time you considered this the 'lessor of two evils' and was actually doing him a service. But what you were doing was sending him into an unknown labyrinth of exposed wires and hidden bobby-traps.

"The school's medics have told me that RF, or 'radio frequency' burns are extremely painful and slow to heal. Still, you sent him into close proximity with this unpredictable equipment and he felt compelled to manipulate these devices, which were not built with proper safety features in place. If he had some electrical or mechanical based training he may have been able to avoid some of the damage inflicted, but this is of no matter at this time. According to him, the two of you always seemed to show up at the last moment, meaning that time was usually a deciding factor. This meant that he needed to employ broad destruction over skillful manipulation, anyway. I can assure you, Possible-san, that if he did not have the Mystical Monkey Power both protecting him and accelerating his healing, he would probably not be able to use his hands anymore. As the situation now stands, his need to concentrate his healing upon his hands has allowed scars to accumulate upon the remainder of his body, which is why he dresses so modestly. If you look closely, very closely, Possible-san, you can still make out blister-scars on the palms of his hands that have yet to successfully fade."

"I … I didn't know," Kim protested, Yori was speaking with such conviction that it frightened her. She didn't dare believe that the other girl was telling the truth but, at that moment, she felt ill-equipped to declare her a liar. "If …if he was at risk…ill, injured or … or in pain, ANY pain, he would have told me! No …no. I…I don't believe you!"

"Yes, you do. You may choose to deny your part in the events I am describing but you know better then anyone that he did not see any alternative to remaining silent. If he had brought his injuries to your attention, you would have had to choose between abandoning your missions or abandoning him. While either choice would have been painful to him, putting you in the situation of needing to choose would have upset him even more. Stoppable-san is honorable and as such he would never burden another with his own difficulties and strife's. He chose to suffer in silence rather than see the smile leave his best friend's face."

All color drained from Kim's face, her emerald eyes bore through the darkness to focus upon her adversary. Desperately, she sought some sort of exaggeration or cruelty in the other girl's face, a sort of Bonnie-ish snarkiness but found instead only righteous anger and honesty. "I…I can't…"

"I believe I know the problem you have," Yori continued, abruptly interrupting Kim's stammering. "It is easier for you to deny Stoppable-san's heroism and sacrifice, taking more of the credit and glory onto yourself. You Americans are always so loud and boastful about your accomplishments, feeding the media's appetite for self-absorbed heroes. In Japan, we consider the true mark of a hero to be one who remains humble about his deeds. Stoppable-san can be brash but he deflects recognition for his many sacrifices with quiet honor, honor that is lacking in yourself. You have courage, Possible-san, none can deny that but you do not have honor. You are not humble, no matter how many times you claim that your deeds are 'no big' and that you are a normal girl. You bask in the media's glow, savoring the attention that you receive."

"How dare you!" Kim snarled back. "You don't know anything about me! We met only once, you have no right to judge me or what Ron means to me. He means the world to me, and sure I may have been a little egotistical in the past. I admit it but things change. PEOPLE change! I am not the same person I was two months ago. You have no right to classify me, to pigeon-hole me with anyone else when you don't know the first thing about me!"

"You are partially correct, Possible-san. My first-hand knowledge of you is limited to our shared experiences with Monkey Fist and D.N. Amy. This was a brief involvement but I have an advantage over you, Stoppable-san's stories. While we were searching for Master Sensei, he would pass the hours by speaking of you with great awe. While he has nothing but admiration for you, an aspect of your character emerged that shames you in his telling."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, Possible-san, exactly what I said earlier, you do not know the true meaning of the word 'friendship'. You are selfish and are motivated only by your own glory and adulation. Stoppable-san has always supported you and your wishes, even to his own detriment, but you? A true friend encourages, a true friend supports, a true friend accepts."

"I have always supported Ron! I have been in his life from the moment I knew what a friend was and I have never shied away from him, even when he goes on a 'never be normal' rant. I accept him for him, even when he embarrasses me; I have always remained at his side and still been his friend."

"When he 'embarrasses' you? Yes, I would imagine such 'unyielding support and tolerance' would make you look indeed generous and supportive to outsiders, but I am not an outsider. I see things with different eyes. Some friendships, Possible-san, can only exist and survive when there is a stationary dynamic in play, a leader and a follower. When such a dynamic is disrupted, Possible-san, THAT is when you learn a friendship's true worth and strength. You are indeed a good, supportive and generous friend when you are, how you Americans say, calling the shots. It is when you are not doing so, or are out of your element, that I can see how you truly judge your friendship with Stoppable-san."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that it was in the other stories Stoppable-san told me that I discovered your true character, what he termed sidelines to the actual adventures he shared with you. For example, he spoke of a misadventure when he received a new haircut, one that you arranged him to receive, and it drew the attention of many females. You, however, were not happy until he went back to his old style. There was also the time that you filled out an application, in his name and without his knowledge, so that he would work side-by-side with you at a fast food franchise. Yet, when he began to excel and advance, you went 'off' on him. Another time, he fought a mutated fish-boy and saved you, the cheer team, and the abusive, Mr. B. At the time, you hinted that he might be one day capable of leading a mission. That happened nearly two years ago and you have yet to accord him this honor. Then there was the time when you both found yourselves enrolled in a Home Economics Class and *"

"I get it! I get it! You think I'm the worst friend in history. I'm competitive. I get jealous and threatened when the status quo is disrupted but that does not make me a bad friend, it just make me an insecure one."

"Stoppable-san has talents."

"Yes, he does. I never said that he didn't."

"Yet you never encourage him to develop and share these talents with those around him, as a true friend would. How many times did Stoppable-san find out he was truly good at something, only to give up on these interests and gifts, just to make YOU happy, Possible-san? It seems that Stoppable-san is a far better and worthier friend to you, than are you to him!"

Kim opened her mouth ready to unleash a blistering reply. Finding that she had none, she closed her mouth in defeat.

"Come with me, Possible-san. I must show you something. It will not be pleasant, but I believe it is necessary if you are to fully understand Stoppable-san's situation." Without waiting for an answer, the Asian girl turned and seemed to Kim as though she was gliding across the lawn to the Stoppables' back corner. Kim followed quietly, drawn almost against her will. She only looked back once, to assure herself that Ron's light was still on.

Kim felt as though the very life was draining out of her as she followed the girl she now admitted she considered a rival. Was she really as bad of a friend as Yori said she was? She had never considered it. In fact, if anybody had ever asked her before the Moodulator Incident, she would have claimed to be among the best friends in the world, only challenged by Ron in that department. Whenever some bully was picking on Ron, she was always quick to jump to his defense. But now she faced the disturbing suggestion that she had been doing that not to protect Ron, but to feed her own ego by doing something good. In defending Ron, telling him what he should and shouldn't do, and assuming the leadership role on missions, had she been making Ron dependent upon her? Had she, unknowingly, been hampering his growth as a person? Had she been forcing him to stay in her shadow, threatening to go ballistic whenever he threatened to step out of it?

While she didn't want to believe it, she had to admit that she had done some...less than exemplary... things, for his benefit. She had known that Tara had crushed on him for months after the Wannaweep incident, in fact, she knew that the blonde had been developing the crush even before Ron saved the day. She also knew that Ron didn't realize it, yet she conveniently failed to mention Tara's feelings for her best-male-friend until the platinum blonde had finally given up moved on to someone else. Had she really wanted to keep Ron focused on the missions, like she told herself at the time, or had she been unwilling to risk Ron winding up with a girlfriend, when she couldn't land a steady boyfriend? Her silence on the 'Tara-issue' had hardly been a 'good friend' move to either Ron or Tara.

She also knew of Ron's own feelings of inferiority were threatening his relationship with Zita and did nothing to belie those thoughts, infact she and Monique made sport of his awkwardness. After their breakup, she could have told Zita why Ron had lied about being a gaming master, but instead she chose not too.

She had even felt jealous about the time Ron spent with Felix, so she wasn't 'saving Ron for herself' in a romantic sense. Somehow, it went even deeper, and darker than that. Did she need someone totally devoted to, yet totally dependent upon, her?

While Kim was contemplating this, Yori reached the massive oak tree, which hovered over the Stoppables' border with a steep ravine. Without looking back, Yori climbed up the old, rickety ladder to the tree house, where Kim and Ron had spent so many happy hours in their youth. Following the ninja into the familiar structure, Kim saw that a few things had changed.

The old, ratty couch was still there. She remembered the day she and Ron had discovered the decrepit piece of furniture on the side of the road. It had taken the two eight-year olds more than half the day to maneuver it into their private sanctuary. The small, wooden table, where the two had done homework while still middle-school students, still sat next to the couch. The two folding chairs, the posters showing Steel Toe beating Pain King, and the Colorado Map were also familiar just like Kim remembered. However, there were some additions that Kim couldn't explain. For one thing, a folded futon rested in the corner, next to a cooler. Before Kim could comment, Yori turned on a battery lamp and gestured towards a map of the entire U.S. which, Kim noted, was covered with multi-colored thumbtacks.

"I have made this tree house my base of operations," Yori explained. "From here, I am able to observe any who seek to approach Stoppable-san's home from the rear. The Middleton Police Department has established a watch upon the front of the house so between us, we guard the abode, even though the Police are unaware of my presence."

"So Ron's 'rents don't know that you're here?" Kim asked.

"Yes, they are also unaware of my presence," Yori explained. "Sensei determined that Stoppable-san could not manufacture a believable or proper reason for the Stoppables' to invite me into their home. Therefore, he directed me to guard Stoppable-san...discretely. When all are absent from the house I, as you Americans say, raid the refrigerator. I also launder my garments at that time. I sleep here, during the day when Stoppable-san is in school and watch the house at night."

"So you were able to see me approaching their yard."

"As well as hear you, Possible-san. Yet, we are not here to discuss my living arrangements or your lack of stealth." Yori gestured at the map. "Stoppable-san has constructed this map, Possible-san, and I deem it important for you to see it."

"Just what is it?" Kim asked, stepping closer. In the lamp's light, she could see that there were green, yellow and red thumbtacks stuck into the map, each with a dated tag.

This represents Stoppable-san's effort to monitor your location, Possible-san. The favors you and Stoppable-san acquired prior to your fleeing still bear fruit. Several law enforcement agencies, as well as private citizens, communicate with Stoppable-san. When one of these acquaintances informs Stoppable-san that someone has reported seeing you, Stoppable-san inserts a pin, with the date, into that location upon the map. Red pins indicate unreliable reports, green pins indicate a report from a reliable source, and yellow pins represent those reports whose authenticity lies somewhere in between."

Kim felt tears slowly form in her eyes as her fingers reached out to lightly touch the pins. In her mind's eye, she pictured Ron coming out here on a nearly daily basis, notes in hand, to track her movements. She recalled her father telling her that he asked her mother, every day while he was in the hospital, if she had heard any news. She pictured Ron sending Rufus to her house, hoping that he would glean more information to record on this very map. She traced her fingers over the map, noting that the green pins represented a fairly accurate record of her travels, even though there were a few that were nowhere near where she had wandered. THIS is what she needed to see, concrete proof that he was worried about her. After the beating she had delivered, after the chip and the fictitious scandals, he still cared enough to keep track of her. Maybe there was still hope for the two of them. Tears rolled down her cheeks, passing a simple, trembling smile on her lips.

"As you can see, Possible-san, it is best that you do not see Stoppable-san. It could prove disastrous if you did. So I respectfully ask you to leave his property and to not burden him with your presence at this time."

Kim could almost feel her heart stop as she turned and looked upon Yori's impassive features. "What do you mean?" She demanded. "THIS tells me that I MUST see him, as soon as possible, and for his sake!"

"I do not understand your logic, Possible-san,"

"Ron, me, this map! He's been trying to find me all this time, he needs to know that I'm back, that I'm safe. If he's willing to put in this kind of effort, don't you think he wants to know I'm home?"

Yori shook her head rapidly, a sad expression on her face. "You misunderstand the purpose of this map, Possible-san, and I apologize that I have failed in explaining its significance. He was indeed trying to find you, Possible-san, but not to assure your rapid and safe return. Possible-san, he was assuring himself that you were maintaining your distance, for fear that you may return and finish him off."

"WHAT?!?"

"Possible-san, consider this from his perspective. You tried to beat him to death and nearly succeeded. He is afraid that you might return and finish what you failed to complete. He tracks your potential locations, not out of concern for you but for self preservation, ready to bolt into hiding should you set course for Middleton."

Kim stepped back in shock, her body trembling. "There is no way I can believe that! Now I know you're lying!"

"No, Possible-san, I am not and I can prove my claim." Yori picked up an old set of binoculars from one of the shelves and handed them to Kim. "Look into his room, Possible-san, and see him for yourself."

With a strange mixture of eagerness and reluctance, Kim did as requested. Focusing on Ron's window was easy, since it was the brightest point visible from the window. Her heart almost stopped when she saw that familiar face, framed by a pillow and his blankets. For a moment, she reveled at seeing her friend again.

Then she noticed that something was not right.

His face was covered with a light coating of sweat, reflecting his room's light. As she watched, she noticed that he was making random, jerky movements. His face wasn't peaceful but frightened, his lips moving as he spoke, pleading in his sleep to an empty room.

With a heavy and pained tone, Yori addressed the question that had not yet been spoken aloud. "Stoppable-san experiences nightmares, in which he relives your assault every night when he sleeps. A psychiatrist, who your mother recommended, treats him each week for post-traumatic stress. While he was a patient in the hospital, the strong sleeper medications he received suppressed these dreams and allowed him to rest peacefully, but now his fears prey upon his sleeping mind and they are relentless. His long-suppressed fear of the dark has once more re-emerged, prompting him to sleep with his lights on. He also has a fear of enclosed spaces, so he leaves his curtains open. But his greatest fear, Possible-san, is you."

Kim could not bare looking at the male figure opposite her any longer. "D-do his parents know?" Kim sobbed, handing the binoculars back to Yori. Kim had been prepared to dispute the other girl's claims, until she clearly saw Ron lips part. Even from the distance that separated them she could make out the movement of his mouth forming the letter's 'K' and 'P', with a look of panic and terror on his sleeping face.

Kim grabbed the window-ledge to keep from falling. Nausea and that vomitus feeling was beginning to make itself known to her once again.

Gently and with great sensitivity, Yori placed her hand on the former red-head's shoulder to offer her support and sympathy. "Stoppable-san's parent's know he is experiencing difficulties, but are unaware of the extent. Stoppable-san is acutely aware of the stress he has placed on both over the past couple of months. His stay in the Hospital, being the subject of tabloid allegations that he had behaved dishonourably when the two of you went to the Street Fair together. Too discovering that their son had been branded like a farm animal. Stoppable-san has worked hard to protect them from any additional concerns. Even I have been asked to, how you say, 'stay in the background'. Stoppable-san would rather not have them aware that on-top of all the other woes that beset him that he is now under the possible threat of death by Lord Monkey Fist. As such I must remain concealed and offer Stoppable-san protection from a distance. This I happily do as his Protector, but as his friend …" Yori informed Kim. "Look at this." Yori pointed at a set of clean, folded sheets on the futon.

"I don't understand," Kim admitted.

"Stoppable-san's nightmares are great and for him very terrifying, and his body's reactions to these horrific memories are intense. In order to conceal how much he suffers, Stoppable-san has had me purchase a set of sheets, identical to those on his bed, shortly after I took up my duties.

"Every morning, as Stoppable-san breaks his fast with his parents, I climb into his window with clean sheets and replace those from the previous night. When his mother enters his room to make his bed, the soiled sheets are out here, in the tree house. During the day, when all are absent from the house, I launder the soiled sheets in preparation for the next morning. His mother and father none the wiser for the subtle and necessary subterfuge."

Yori gave Kim an unyielding stare. "I do this to uphold Stoppable-san's dignity, Possible-san. Nightly he soaks his bedding with sweat and his fear sometimes is so intense that … that, at times, he looses control of his bladder."

"Oh, dear Lord," Kim whispered. "What can I do? What … what have I done?!?"

"What you can do, Possible-san, is you _cannot go_ to him at this time," Yori answered. "If you were to enter his room at this time and awaken him, he would see his nightmare made flesh. Ask yourself, please, in whose interests do you serve? Stoppable-san's or your own? Please, I ask you, return to your home. I will inform Stoppable-san, after he awakens, that you have returned to Middleton. You have my word on this. But I think it would be best for the proper authorities to arrange a meeting between the two of you, with the proper supervision and safeguards in place."

"But what about now?" Kim demanded_. Ron has to be guarded against me? How did it come to this?_ "What about him, now? He's suffering and I can't do anything about it!"

"I will go to him, _after_ you leave," Yori told her, the Asian's face determined. "I will awaken him and assure him that I am watching over him as he slumbers. Knowing that he is guarded provides him with a measure of comfort and typically after my reassurances he sleeps much easier."

"But..." Kim began to protest.

"Possible-san, now that you know the truth I ask you again the question of your true motives. Do you wish to go to him for his benefit, or your own? The longer you argue with me, the longer his nightmares hold sway over his mind.

"Earlier tonight I referred to you as a selfish person and you responded telling me that 'you had changed'. I give you this opportunity to prove your claim. Does Stoppable-san's peace-of mind mean more to you then your own self-centred desires? Because if it does not then we will, as you said, get 'down and dirty'. I have pledged to Master Sensei and to the Chosen One that I would do everything in my power to protect him from harm. ALL possible harm. Whether it be emotional, physical, mental or spiritual.

"I am Stoppable-san's servant, friend, confidant and protector and I take my role in all these titles very seriously. I will do everything asked, and not asked of me, to ensure these four states of being, physical, mental, emotional and spiritual are returned to balance and harmony. And if I must sent YOU to the Middleton Hospital Emergency Department to offer Stoppable-san one extra night of peace, then I shall. Without regret or hesitation."

Defeat. That was the only word for it. No loss to Shego, no failure to stop Drakken from stealing his latest target, felt so bad. Kim Possible had not answer to Yori's claim. She knew that simply going to him would torment him and bring to life his panicked fears of her. Kim couldn't bring herself to look Yori in the eye, she simply spun on her heel and walking as in a trance approached the opened hatch to the tree house she had entered through mere minutes before.

Under the watchful gaze of the ninja, Kim slid her feet to the first rung of the ladder that would take her to the ground. Without even knowing that she had spoken her voice rose up in the Tree house's silence to solicit the question her mind was asking. "After everything I have done, how can he not hate and despise me?"

Yori's voice answered the question, but deep down Kim wished that it had remained silent. Because the answer tore her heart to shreds.

"Stoppable-san could never hate you, Possible-san. He has a great and forgiving heart, and he would forgive you without even an apology being delivered. What you did to him was not who you were. You were manipulated. Your will and anger were compromised to hostile levels by an artificial device. Stoppable-san cares for and loves you with every beat of his might and grand heart.

"It is true he kept track of your possible locations out of fear, but he also did so out of concern as well. It was unfortunate that his investigations could not concisely find your whereabouts, because he had said to me if he knew for fact where you were he would send this information to your family so that you might be retrieved by them. He does not hate you, Possible-san, but he does fear you and sometimes fear is a greater emotion to overcome then hatred. Hatred can be reasoned through and conquered, but fear is, for most, irrational thing. Fear can indeed be beaten, but it requires support, appreciation, faith and love for it to be done so. You have my vow, Possible-san, that I am doing everything in my power and my person to ensure Stoppable-san confronts and vanquishes his fears and that he returns to being the man he once was."

For whatever reason, Kim, felt ill at ease with the Asian's reassurance, but quickly dismissed it as a remanent of her own jealousy. Ron was in a fragile state and she had to trust that Yori knew how best to care for him at the moment then she did. Slowly and without saying a single word she descended the rope ladder.

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Yori watched the former redhead scramble over two fences and into the night. Yori honestly didn't care if the hothead was running away again or going home. The important thing was that she was leaving. Satisfied that she had kept the intruder from disturbing her charge, the ninja left the tree house, crossed the backyard and climbed the same ash tree Kim had intended to. As noisy as a shadow, the lithe ninja opened her charge's window and slipped inside.

"No...Kim...stop...why...What!" Ron, awakened by Yori's gentle touch on his shoulder, looked confused until his gaze fell upon his protector. At seeing her tranquil concern he felt a wave of relief clam him. "Yori? Was … was I having the nightmares again?"

"Yes, Stoppable-san," Yori informed him, closing the window silently.

"I'm so sorry."

The Asian walked amongst the room, simplicity showing in her steps that she knew every inch of it with practice ease. Gently, she placed the clean sheets she had bundled under her arm upon his desk. "What is there to apologize for, Stoppable-san? You have nothing to be ashamed of." Yori asked, as she dimmed the room's lights. Ron was comfortable in a darkened room, as long as he knew Yori was there with him. "You withstood a vicious assault and have not fully recovered. It is not your fault that you are unable to turn your back upon such an experience."

"But I must be such a burden…*"

"Stop. We have this discussion every night and every night I tell you that this thought is unworthy of you. I have never called you a burden, nor will I ever, Ron-kun."

The male's face became pink as her gentle and soothing words drifted over the expanse of his room. She was right, they had this 'argument', if you wanted to call it that, nearly every night. And every night she would reassure him that he thought too little of himself and that he should not think such thoughts. So much so that it was like a broken recording, but that did not change that he liked hearing her defend his frailties.

Ron's eyes slowly cast themselves over to his desk and the fresh sheets placed over his half-opened text books. He knew what the bringing of 'fresh-sheets' meant, and to be honest he didn't mind the unsaid implications of what was to follow. Hell, most normal teenage boys would punching the air with their fists if they knew what could be happening in the next ten-minutes. But then again he lived by the mantra of 'Never be Normal' and all he was in the mood for was sleeping tonight. He should stop her, he should send her away, he should tell her that she should stop degrading herself. He should say that he had a 'headache'. But he always slept peacefully whenever she was near, so it was a 'Catch 22'.

"Um, thank you for looking after me." Ron rolled onto his side and looked at his alarm clock that sat on his side table, desperate to make idol conversation in the now dimmed room. "Err, aren't you a little later than usual? Typically you're here a half-hour earlier?"

The Asian hid her face from Ron's questioning graze. "There is no need for thanks, Ron-kun." Yori informed him, peeling off her dark, ninja garb. "Even if it were not my duty to protect you in your time of vulnerability, it would be my honor to watch over you as you sleep."

Now clad only in her undergarments, the slender girl slipped into bed with the troubled, blonde boy and spooned up behind him. "As for the lateness off my visit, I ran into a ...minor annoyance... which I dealt with before joining you."

"Trouble?"

"No, not really. I thought that it might be, but I was wrong. It was just a neighbourhood feline, on-heat I think. Looking to make itself a nuisance and to disturb your rest. I … stopped her by throwing some cold water over it. After that she went scurrying home. It will not disturb you further tonight, I promise."

"Thanks."

"No thanks are necessary," Yori repeated, hugging him close. "It is my honor to...have your back."

"Yes, but I must be a terrible inconvenience," Ron murmured, his voice already heavy with sleep. "And you holding me, so that I can sleep must be pushing your duty's limits."

"It is not duty, it is friendship, Stoppable-san, and friendship knows no limits. Sleep now, and know that I will watch over you while you slumber. I will allow nobody to threaten you while you rest. Ever."

Ron's only answer was deep, peaceful, regular breathing. Yori smiled, though disappointed that he went to sleep so quickly, yet still content that her presence brought such comfort to the young man. She lifted her head off of the pillows, assuring herself that Ron was, indeed, asleep. Certain that her charge was unaware of her actions, she dropped her head down and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Rest well, Ron-kun," she whispered. "Tomorrow shall be a most trying day. But I will be here for you, I will not leave your side."

Closing her own eyes she snuggled deeper into the male's back and allowed her own happiness drift over her. The clean sheet's, she thought can wait for tomorrow night after Possible-san reveals her return to him. He would most likely be stressed then at the return of his female friend and will be wanting some distractions and relief of his worries.

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Kim didn't have a coherent memory of her return to her own home. She was only barely aware that she had retraced her earlier steps through the backyards. Tears in her eyes, she managed to bark her shins on several fences as she scrambled over them. Finally, she found herself outside her own window, the very portal she had exited with such hope, a short time before.

"_Okay, Possible,"_ she thought, trying to rally herself. "_You'll deal with this tomorrow. Look at the bright side, your shins are bleeding, your feet are cold and wet, it's the middle of the night and you've just found out that your best friend in the world has nightmares about you."_ Kim slipped back into her window and closed it behind her. _"You can honestly say that you've hit rock bottom and things simply cannot get worse."_

Suddenly, her room lights came on, prompting her to spin around and confront...

"Mom!?!"

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As always a Special Holla goes out for Daccu65 for being the musing-genius that he is .

Kim's nocturnal jaunt was not a total bust. She at least learned that Ron still cares for her, but she also learned that it is unlikely for him to be in the same room with her without losing control of his bladder.

And Yori looks as though she has taken the role of 'Body Guard' far too literally. If Kim thinks that the Ninja will happily step aside and let her explore ANY relationship with her Ron-kun then she had better get herself into shape real quick.

Next Chapter : Kim faces the music with her parents, the authorities and Ron discovers that she's back in town. Plus Kim comes face to face with Shego, the other person who had their emotions warped by the Moodulator and they compare notes.

Thou has read it, now thou must review it!

(No Flamers please, I'm sensitive)


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